Tenebrae
by Caleb Nova
Summary: RE4 - In this heart of darkness two lights collide. Leon x Ashley.
1. Estela la Muerto

**"It is the eater of men. From rocks and dust you will know them...**

**Like an empty cup they will fill you... Sanguijuela¹ choking the throat.**

**Rocks and arrows they will turn aside for the cattle know not fear,**

**and** **seek flesh to hollow... And turn out their neighbors.**

**The iluminacion² spreads from the darkest corners**

**to** **swallow us whole"**

**-**_Spanish text fragment found in a basement at a dig near Cordoba, dated to 1511_

1 The modern Spanish equivalency of the actual word used. There is some question as to the intent of the author. Sanguijuela, or "leech", is only an approximation. The usage would seem to suggest a parasitical entity: a tick, mite, or possibly an internal parasite such as Schistosoma.

2 This replacement is open to interpretation. "Iluminacion" would seem to be the closest related modern term to "Illuminados". It has been suggested that the most literal translation to current English would be "Illuminati".


	2. Tenebrae

Ten·e·brae (**ten**-_uh_-brey)

The office of matins and lauds sung on the last three days of Holy Week, with a ceremony of candles.

Medieval Latin, from Latin 'tenebrae', _darkness_

* * *

Body trembling from exhaustion, Leon slumped to the bottom of the boat. With a shaky hand he reached for his holster and gripped the pistol within. It was a poor defense should the lake decide to come alive again, but his arms felt like lead weights and he knew he would be unable to throw any more harpoons.

Wiping water from his eyes, he pushed himself back to a sitting position and stayed there for a moment, catching his breath and possibly his sanity. It was always difficult to face death, but it was near impossible to cheat it. He didn't know how much further his luck could take him.

With a sputter, he painfully restarted the small onboard motor and made for the opposite shore.

As the spray of the stagnant lake misted over the bow of his small craft, he wondered what sort of nightmares waited for him just ahead.

Pueblo, it was called. But within the same language was a more appropriate word for what had lurked inside the 'village': _infierno_.

How oddly fitting that it had been a cold day in hell. Those demons he had seen had walked not through fire but through chilled air, a vacuum from which the very life had been sucked. They were horrors in the daylight, an unnatural setting for such a perfect cinematic scene. Leon Kennedy enters the Pueblo. Roll cameras, cue demons. Action, action, and action again.

Somewhere between the hundredth squeeze of the trigger and the sound of wet flesh being parted left the thought that none of it could possibly be real. Real was in the blood at his feet. Real was subject to renegotiation.

Raccoon City seemed just around the corner. Life had never been more distant. It was a juxtaposition he was well familiar with.

Like all twisted roads everything bent gradually, turning upside down and over until the shape of things to come was no longer discernable. He was moving by his bare fingertips, hand over hand in treacherous navigation. The President's daughter had little to do with anything now. She was either dead, or she wasn't. He wasn't, and he intended to stay that way. Thinking about Ashley Graham did nothing to forward this goal. To pin his hopes of escape on a girl he had yet to see except through photographs did little to convince him of his chances. In reality, leaving without her was not an option. There was no way out but through, and he knew he wouldn't be able to leave her to die and still be employed on his return. Besides, he wasn't willing to lose an innocent if he could prevent it. His mission was his clearest path – anything else would have been misguided.

Though it certainly wouldn't have been the first mistake he'd ever made.

* * *

Leon reached the dock on the other end of the lake, the boat scraping loudly against the wooden planks. Bent over in pain, he roped it securely to a pylon and then scrambled out onto the shore.

He was dizzy, nauseous, stumbling on even ground. His mouth felt dry and swollen and his tongue seemed thick as if he might choke on it. Dimly, he wondered if he was dying. There was something in his neck, he thought, without fully understanding why. Something in his neck. His spit tasted metallic. He opened his lips to jet some out but instead only let a rivulet of drool escape, oozing into his jacket.

What was happening to him?

He ran heavily into the door of a cabin that he hadn't even realized was there. With trembling hands he gripped the knob and it seemed by almost sheer force of will opened it. His clumsy footsteps banged loudly on the wooden floor. He managed to close the door behind him just before he collapsed, letting out an unexpected shout of pain.

The floor rushed up to meet him, and greeted him with darkness.


	3. The Reasons of Things

_He was changing, though he didn't know it yet. Something swam in his veins, rooting for a nesting place._

_But he was oblivious now. There was not a single light to guide him._

_There in the darkness, he remembered._

* * *

The bed smelled strongly of beer and stale sweat but Leon was by now impervious to the stench, his nostrils worn clean of such distinctions. Tipping back the bottle in his hand, he took another swig and tirelessly flipped through channel after channel of bad daytime television.

The pain couldn't take hold when his mind was with bad actors on worse shows. Not as much, at least. He didn't feel up to the task of measuring his mental state.

It was only in the night that he couldn't escape it. The screams from the city streets replaced the steady whirring of the fan and the pervading miasma of liquor faded into the coppery tang of blood and offal. Raccoon City came to visit him when the sun went down. So he learned to stay up and fight the memories with bourbon and music videos. When he was on the job paperwork did the trick. For the time being, that wasn't an option.

In his most sappy, cloying moments of self-pity Leon thought that what he needed was a woman to blot away the pain with warm kisses. But he didn't have a woman, so he used alcohol, and instead of a kiss on the mouth it was a punch. It did the trick of numbing him in the absence of kissing, though it hurt more at first and a lot more afterwards.

In a slightly drunken stupor he absently ticked off possible solutions to his current hollow state, seeing as how getting drunk just wasn't cutting it like it used to. Ada? She was dead. Maybe. He wasn't sure what to think anymore. Claire? He hadn't talked to her in years. It was a distance enforced by time and occupation. Hookers? Too expensive, too dangerous. Usually too ugly. Hookers were like ridiculously expensive Chinese food, neither were all that filling and you'd probably want to eat both with your eyes closed.

His reverie was interrupted when the phone rang. Laconically, he set down his bottle on a nearby coaster with a glass rattle and picked it up, cradling it to his ear. "Hello?"

"It's John." The voice was rudely brusque and very familiar. "Something's come up. I need you over at the office as soon as possible."

Leon didn't move. "I hate to remind you, sir, but if you'll remember I'm sort of suspended right now-"

"Enough bullshit. That doesn't matter. I expect to see you here in half an hour."

The line went dead.

Twenty-four minutes later Leon was clean shaven and fully dressed. He was still somewhat hung-over, but presentable enough for public consumption. He made his way down the hallway as quickly as his abused body would let him, wincing as his heavy footfalls jarred his head. Johnathan Trask wasn't a man who liked to be kept waiting, and at the moment a lot depended on whatever conversation was to follow. Leon preferred if they didn't start out on the wrong foot.

The halls of the Agency were not bustling or busy like the usual hallways of a functioning office building. Instead, they were almost always silent and empty. The Agency had no official name or premises, and there was little in his surroundings to hint at what really went on behind the white walls.

John's office was just around the next corner. Leon couldn't help but wonder what was so urgent that he would summon a suspended agent back for active duty. Grasping the black handle to the doorway, Leon opened it and stepped inside.

The office was, as usual, uncomfortably frigid. John seemed to be an uncommonly hot blooded man and the ambient temperature he kept in his office reminded Leon of nothing so much as a walk in fridge. Sitting down in a chair across from the polished mahogany desk that John kept piled high with papers, he crossed his arms in an attempt to warm himself and willed the goose bumps to leave his skin.

John immediately focused his attention towards Leon. "Good timing."

Leon cleared his throat, shifting in the chair. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Right. I'll cut straight to the point, so long as you understand that this information is to never leave this room."

It was a standard procedure, one Leon well knew. "As always."

"As of last Friday Ashley Graham, President Graham's daughter, has gone missing." John reached across the desk and picked up a relatively thin manila folder, dropping it in front of Leon. "She was on her way home from college in Massachusetts to spend the weekend with her family in D.C. Witnesses confirm her leaving at the correct time with her Secret Service agents, but she never arrived."

Leon picked the folder up, leafing through various reports, compiled data, and eyewitness testimonies. He stopped at a map of the Massachusetts area where she was last seen, red outlines and markings laying out the path she took and the supposed site of her disappearance.

"As you can imagine," John continued, "this has been kept from the media. As of yet we have received no threats or demands. Evidence points towards this being an inside job."

Leon looked up. "Her agents?"

"Dead. If they were involved then they were expendable. Their bodies were found in Ashley's vehicle, abandoned at a gas station several miles from what we believe to be the site of the abduction."

"Any suspects?"

"Just shots in the dark," John grunted. "With practically everyone close to her under suspicion and nobody taking credit for the act, we're running blind. We have every currently active Agent working on this, under the President's orders. We'll find her. But the longer it takes, the more likely it is that she's dead."

Leon was silent for a moment, before placing the map back inside the folder and placing it back on the desk. "So where do I come in?"

"Officially, you don't. You're still suspended."

Leon just looked at him. "Then what am I doing here?"

John sighed, leaning back further in the chair and rubbing his eyes. For the first time Leon realized how tired he looked. "We both know you didn't deserve the suspension, but we also both know that I didn't have any choice."

Leon grimaced. "Yeah. I know."

"There's an oddjob that's come up. I don't have the manpower to spare right now for a full excursion, but we can't afford to ignore any leads, no matter how small. Allegedly, and I do mean _allegedly_, someone fitting Ashley's description was seen entering a small rural community in the backwoods of Spain. Normally we might ignore something like this, but we can't this time. It was called in by a local Policia officer, who apparently saw her heading into the woods in the backseat of a car. Since it was a cop this lends it some credence. Not much, but enough to where we have no choice but to check it."

Instantly, Leon put the pieces together. "You're sending me on a goddamned goosechase."

"You want to be unsuspended again?" John barked at him. "Do this, and I'll be able to tell the board of directors that you made yourself useful during this crisis. Or you can go back to your apartment and stew yourself in some more booze, if you'd prefer."

Leon said nothing.

"You'll just be going to ask some questions," John continued. "Take a look around, talk to a few people."

"How did this officer know to look for her?"

"He didn't. But apparently he watches the news enough to recognize someone who at least looks like her. Like I said, we can't pass this up, even if it seems like the best thing to do."

"And what if I find her?"

"You won't."

"And what if I find her?" Leon asked again, more insistent this time.

John let out a breath. "Then you call in for backup and we'll get both of you out of there, but trust me – you're not going to find her. This is just a favor from me to you."

"Thanks," Leon said, and he meant it. Being suspended was becoming more than he could bear. "Any information on the region?"

John reached behind him and pulled another file from a wall slot. "Interesting enough locale. It's a fairly large forested area on the edge of a large lake by the Seirra Morena mountains. It's known as the Salazar Estates. Apparently the land has been owned by the same family for centuries."

Leon frowned. "I thought you said there was a community involved."

"Right. The land is privately owned but still hosts a fairly large population, a holdover from the feudal system. Obviously the inhabitants are no longer indentured and are subject to national laws, but it's still a strange, reclusive place. Very backward, an isolated farming community with a sort of Amish twist." John paused, letting Leon digest the information. "The Salazars own all that plus a good portion of the lake and a large island that's in it. The island once housed a fresh water plant but that was closed down in the seventies by the Salazars, there's no record as to why."

Leon looked at John, puzzled. "That's all?"

John shrugged. "Like I said, reclusive. It may be something akin to Amish but it's hardly a tourist trap, they don't like the media or strangers over there. The area is poorly mapped at best, but I managed to pull a satellite and get you some rough recon, the shots are in the folder."

Leon leafed through it until he found the transparencies, taking them out and putting the other contents back on the desk. He held them up to the light for closer inspection.

"You can see they've been doing some work on the area. There's not much recognizable change on the mainland but some heavy construction can be seen on the island, looks like they're bringing at least one part of their little kingdom up to speed. Some of this stuff is just plain bizarre, look at sheet six."

Leon held up the appropriate sheet. "Look there," John pointed. "They've made a ringed clearing in the woods, but there's nothing in it. Just an empty sand pit."

Leon put his finger to something running over a length of chasm. "What's that?"

"Mountain tramway. Built back in the fifties at the same time as the water plant. A lot more people were moving through there back then, so it was constructed to provide easier access to the more elevated regions."

Lowering the sheet, Leon eyed him. "The homework has certainly been done for such a throwaway mission."

John nodded, sighing again. "We can't let this one slip by us. No matter how seemingly unimportant the lead, we need to do this right."

Leon pulled out another sheet. "Wow. Is that a castle?"

"Right," John reached into the folder Leon had left on the desk and scanned over a paper that he withdrew from it. "The Salazar Castle. Look at the lines, you can see where it's been expanded over the years. The place is one massive maze of art and stonework. A lot of historians would kill to get a look at it, but the Salazars have never allowed it."

"Rich family?"

"Extremely. Cortez is the most famous conqueror of Mexico, but he wasn't the only man to grab for the gold. By the time the Aztecs were well and truly subjugated the Salazars had brought back enough of the stuff for a hundred lifetimes. On top of that, the part of the mountain range that they own is also rich in precious minerals, there are extensive mines on the property."

After a few more seconds of browsing, Leon decisively closed the folder. "And the real question, why would they have Ashley?"

"Not so much as a single clue. But considering that the sighting was alleged in the highest degree, I don't think we'll ever find out."

"When do I leave?"

"Tomorrow morning."

* * *

_Sloughing from the blackness, Leon rose to the surface._


	4. Scenes from a Waking

Awakening came slowly, painfully, as Leon began to feebly stir on the dirty wooden floor. His lungs burned with a peculiar fire, as if he had inhaled too much smoke. His heart beat faster than it should have; having done nothing more strenuous than sleep it pounded frantically as if in fear. A variety of spasms ran through his muscles, causing his abdomen to clench painfully.

Cold and aching, Leon became fully awake on the cabin floor.

The distance from laying down to standing on his feet felt enormous, but with some effort he lifted himself to an upright position. With some shock, he realized it was now nighttime. Lifting up one sleeve, he quickly looked at his chronometer. Six hours he had been asleep. He considered it an amazing stroke of luck that he wasn't dead. However, it seemed that for the time being his location had remained undiscovered, and he had time to collect himself.

Then he saw the note on the bed.

Broken of yet another false assumption, he lifted it with still unsteady fingers and read:

**_There is an important item hidden in the falls, if you are able to_**

**_get it you might be able to get Ashley out of the church. But I'll_**

**_warn you, the route to the church isn't a walk in the park by any_**

**_means. They've developed what's called an "El Gigante", so God bless._**

**_About what's been going on in your body – if I could help you, I would._**

**_But unfortunately it's beyond my power._**

No name. Another mystery to add on the pile.

He would be going it alone. Any promise of backup had ended when a villager's pickaxe had met with his uplink, severing his one tie to the outside world. He knew that given enough time the Agency would come looking for him, but he wasn't willing to sit around waiting for that to happen. Until it became clear to those back home that something was wrong, he would attempt to complete his mission and find another way to contact them.

Imbued with a new sense of direction, Leon headed for the door.

* * *

_Somewhere locked inside a chapel a woman – a girl – sat gingerly on box tops and hid her ears from the thunder._

_They will come for me._

_The whisper ran through her mind, frantic and pleading._

_Someone help me please._

* * *

It was only later, his footsteps in the mud barely audible between thunderclaps, that the true nature of his enemy began to register with him.

No stranger to horror was he, no, certainly not, but that such a thing could live inside a person, consume them, ravage their insides and burn through their mind, then climb writhing and twisting through the flesh to emerge pulsing and slick through some ruptured cavity…

Leon gagged, recovered, and then stopped for a moment, closing his eyes. Not to him. Never to him. He'd eat a bullet first.

_The lightning lit the heavens in another brilliant flash as something red flailed about in the open air. The body which shuffled it forward was nothing but a hollow shell, a conveyance for this ungodly __**thing**__ that stared unblinkingly at him as its tendrils sought out his skin._

Violently, he shook himself, trying to pull his head together. There would be time later to think about what he had seen. Right now, he had to get to the church.

The rain obscured his vision as he at last crested the hill. Wiping the water from his eyes, he peered into the night. He had seen movement ahead, he was sure of it.

This suspicion was confirmed when an animal slunk from the darkness to stand slavering before him.

It was a dog, he realized, feeling a moment's pity for the thing. No doubt it hadn't been fed in who knew how long, what with all the local people in the state they were in. Hopefully he could bypass it without killing it.

Lowering the barrel of his shotgun, he called out softly to the creature. "Hey – I'm not going to hurt you."

The words caught in his throat as tentacles ripped from the thing's back, accompanied by the sickening sound of tearing flesh and cracking bones. The monster showed no signs of pain at the horrific self-inflicted wound as blood ran down its sides to mingle with other nameless fluids. It lunged at him.

A wordless scream tore itself from Leon's throat as he brought up the shotgun just in time to fire in the beast's face before it ripped out his throat. The force of the blast wasn't enough to arrest the creature's momentum. The nearly headless corpse landed heavily on him, driving him to the ground. Panting desperately, he heaved it aside, trying to avoid the still thrashing tentacles and shuddering when one slippery tendril slid down his arm.

Two distinct howls came close by. Backing away from the twitching body of the dead dog, Leon brought his shotgun back up to a ready position. It wasn't long before two more of the monster's came bounding through the rain. His first shot dropped one, the beast now missing most of its face. The second dog closed too quickly for a perfect headshot; his second blast put a hole in its stomach and knocked it to the ground, and his third made a messy end of it.

Freezing in place, Leon desperately tried to listen through the rain for the sound of any more approaching animals. Hearing nothing, he clenched his weapon tightly and sprinted for the church door.

* * *

_Fearfully the girl winced at the sound of a new kind of thunder, gunshots echoing up to her chamber. They had to be killing more people, she knew it – she could only hope it wasn't her rescuers._

_Gripping the end of a board she had pried from a barrel, she moved to one side of the door, and waited._

* * *

The church was blessedly empty. His footsteps echoed through the room, softly patterned over by the dull sound of rainfall.

It was a strange room to be sure, but no stranger than many of the places through which he had recently passed. There was some mystic urging at work here, an occult sensibility underlying everything that was done. Rituals seemed to be necessary – weird keys hidden in weird places. These people seemed so bound to ceremony that he wouldn't be surprised if they ate their food in an order according to color.

Even the locking mechanism for the upper gateway was bizarre, a mixing hologram of spectrums. Surely a simple lock would have sufficed. Although, locks could be blown open. The puzzle may have been peculiar, but it was effective in barring entrance. For a moment, anyway. It struck him as more of a toy than anything.

With only one room in the church left to search, Leon moved past the now open gates and slowly lowered his hand to the doorknob.

* * *

_Her knuckles whitened around the board as the doorknob slowly began to turn. Raising it above her head, she prepared herself for what felt like a useless defiance._

_The second a head emerged through the doorway she swung the board downwards with all her might._

* * *

Leon had no sooner stepped inside when something hard nicked the side of his head, following the curve of his skull to slip down and gash across his ear, the path of it ending with a solid thud against his shoulder.

"OW!"

It was Ashley, of course. He had seen her the second he had walked in, but a combination of pleasant surprise and relief had prevented him from dodging her awkward blow. He grabbed his ear in pain, staggering away from her while she stood frozen in shock.

Straightening up, he turned to her and held out his hands placatingly, offering what he felt was a non-threatening smile.

Instead of giving him the expected thankful greeting, she swung at him again, this time bashing his arm.

"Ow! God! What the fuck is the matter with you?" he shouted at her, backing away.

This burst of recognizable English, however ineloquent it may have been, seemed to jolt her out of her stupor. "Oh! You're – you're not one of them?"

It was a rather vague question, but he understood. "No! I'm Leon Kennedy, I work for the U.S Government. Jesus, that really hurt you know."

Ashley immediately dropped the board. "I'm sorry!"

"Yeah, well… it's okay," he grudgingly told her. "I'm here to get you out."

Ashley's eyes lit up. "You work for my father?"

The true nature of the Agency was something Leon was not at full liberty to discuss, but when in doubt generalization was a good way to go. "That's right. We have to leave now, as fast as possible. We'll try to use the cover of darkness to reach the wood line, it will be easier to hide in there."

In truth Leon hadn't the slightest idea whether the woods would bring any sort of safety, but it was the closest thing to a plan he could come up with under the circumstances. At the very least the woods would provide cover if it came to a firefight.

Ashley didn't question, seemingly happy to have anything to hold on to. Leon could imagine things had looked grim sitting in the church alone. His arrival had put some hope back in her eyes.

"Okay, let's go," she said. Leon started for the door when she suddenly squeaked, "Wait!"

He turned back to her, confused. "What?"

She smiled sheepishly, untying the sweater from around her neck. "It's cold out..."

"Oh."

As she pulled the sweater over her head, Leon took the time to study her more closely. A picture could only reveal so much about a person. She didn't seem too worse for wear after her kidnapping; her clothing was all still intact, if a little more ragged and dirty. She was short, and shapely. Well rounded, but not fat. She had large breasts, he noted with as much clinical detachment as he could muster, which admittedly wasn't much. She was pretty, prettier in motion than she was in the photograph. Big hazel eyes, full lips, arched eyebrows. She wasn't conventionally pretty – her ears were slightly too large for a fashion magazine and her nose not delicate enough for a runway. But Leon had never put much stock in society's version of beauty. Plastic didn't have much flavor to it.

With a tug, the sweater was firmly fitted around her and she was ready to go.

Hand in hand, they made their way quickly for the door. Leon wasn't sure exactly where they would go after they made it out, but anywhere away from village seemed like the best idea. Reaching the lower level, they began threading their way through the pews.

"I'll take the girl."

The voice was supremely arrogant, sibilant undertones caressing every syllable. Leon slowly turned around, seeing Ashley staring at the altar with one hand over her mouth.

The man was draped in a heavy purple, his lined face peering out from beneath a deep cowl. A small smile played around his lips, like he knew something hilarious. His eyes spoke of something darker.

Leon recognized him immediately. Not his name, or his face, but his attitude. Just another villain so self-assured that he was blind to everything but ambition. Men like him were dangerous. Their vision allowed for nothing but their long term goals, and anything to the detriment of that goal was destroyed.

But Leon was not without his own brand of bravado. As uncertain and frightened as he may have been, he sure as hell wasn't going to show it.

"And you must be Emperor Palpatine. Is Vader lurking somewhere in the back, or was he cramping your style?"

Ashley shot him a look of pure panic, obviously wondering what he thought he was doing.

If the man understood the reference or was impressed by Leon's apparent lack of concern, he didn't show it. "If you must know, my name is Osmund Saddler, the master of this fine religious ...community. But more importantly, you are taking something of mine."

"And even more importantly, does your wife know that you're wearing her bathrobe?"

Saddler smiled thinly. "You are amusing, Mr. Kennedy. But not for long, I think. You are an accident waiting to happen, with a time bomb lodged in your veins. And hers too, of course. You will understand that I have little need to catch you when in time you must come to me."

Ashley gasped, one hand rising to instinctively to clap over the right side of her neck. Leon caught the motion, glancing sharply at her.

Saddler nodded slowly. "Yes, the both of you. An investment that will be sure to pay off."

Leon refused to crumble. "If stocks are your style, Saddler. Personally I prefer poker, but then again, I've got balls."

"I find it pays to invest in _cattle_," Saddler sneered. "Believe it or not, it takes quite a lot of money to keep this church up and running. It won't truly pay off until she returns home to her loving father, but before that, I thought I might bargain with the President for some _donations_."

"I gave at the office."

"I truly hope you enjoy our small, but special contributions. When the eggs hatch, you'll become my puppets. Involuntarily, you'll do as I say. I'll have total control over your minds. Don't you think this is revolutionary way to propagate one's faith?"

"It's been done."

As Leon anticipated, he had hit a nerve. Personal comments Saddler could weather, but to tread on his 'accomplishments' was too much.

When Saddler's lips once again curved into a short smile and Leon heard the double click of something dangerous engaging behind him, he knew there wasn't time to take a look. Clenching Ashley's hand, he dove for the nearby window.

Over the crashing of glass and Ashley's scream he distantly heard Saddler roaring, "Alive you fools! Don't shoot the girl!"

The second his feet touched the ground he hauled Ashley up. Sprinting as fast as he could make her go, he was through the nearby door and then they were off into the night.


	5. Scenes from a Waking II

His ears were ringing so badly that he could only barely understand what he himself was saying. Her mouth was moving, quickly, frantically, as her legs kicked out over the long fall. Desperately, he tried to stretch his arm down further.

"Ashley, take my hand okay, just reach up a little further. You need to do this. Come on Ashley, I know you can," he said, trying to sound calm even though his heart was in a vice.

Her grip was loosening – he could see her stiff little fingers slowly giving way. Face etched with fear, she bit her bottom lip hard and stared helplessly up at him.

Oh God, she couldn't do that. He couldn't stand it when she looked at him that way. She wasn't allowed to do that. With a sudden surge of energy, he wiggled his way further out over the edge, extending his fingers.

"Ashley. Please. Reach up, you can do it."

Her eyes were wide and glassy pools of unthinking terror.

_Please_, he mouthed. _Please_.

Something in his eyes must have broken through the panic, for with her last ounce of strength she swung one arm up. Moving with a speed he hadn't known he possessed, he grabbed it firmly with both his hands, hauling her up until he could lift under her arms. Gathering her close to his chest, he threw his weight to the side and rolled away from the precipice, taking her with him.

She was lying on top of him but that hardly seemed significant as they both gasped for breath, allowing weak limbs to relax and regain some token strength. They were pushing too hard, he knew. They needed a rest. He didn't know how it would be possible, but they had to stop, if only for a little while. Even the toughest soul needed a moment's respite.

The feeling of something wet against the side of his neck pulled him from his thoughts, and he realized Ashley had buried her face there and was quietly sobbing. Gently, he reached up and softly patted her on the back, not knowing what else he could do and fully aware that they couldn't lay there for long. His hearing was gradually returning, the loss of which had been the result of a near miss by a catapult. The operator of said catapult had met his end shortly after by the work of Leon's rifle, but Ashley had been tossed violently to the side and had slid over a nearby ledge. It had been a close call, far too close for Leon's taste.

"Ashley," he said quietly, and he was a little ashamed to hear that his voice still held some slight tremors. "Ashley, we need to go."

Letting loose a few more silent tears onto his skin she nodded, but made no move to get up. As unwilling to move as she was, but bending to necessity, Leon sat up and hoisted both of them to their feet. It was a few seconds before she looked up, tears still glistening on her cheeks in the moonlight. Leon brushed one of them away with his thumb before he could stop himself, sending her embarrassed gaze back to the ground.

"Okay?" he asked.

Wordlessly, she nodded.

As they moved off through the reaches of the castle, Leon reflected that somewhere along the way his mission had become quite personal.

* * *

Ashley was dead on her feet. Her shoes dragged against the stone floor with every step and Leon was afraid that should the need arise, and it often did, she would be unable to move quickly. They were in drastic need of a place to rest, and Leon was now pressured to search harder than ever for somewhere to hide.

Salvation came in the form of a small, blocked in stone room on the edge of the one the castle wings. Located in a relatively out of the way place and hosting only one small window and a heavy iron door, it was their best chance for a breather.

No sooner had Leon shut the door and wedged a heavy beam into the bar lock than Ashley slumped to the floor. She needed to be off her feet, if but for a short time. Adrenaline could only carry a body so far.

Leon settled down next to her, taking worried stock of his steadily dwindling ammo supply. He conserved as much as possible and looted what he could, but at this rate without finding a new source of bullets it wouldn't be long before he would be using the butt end of his weapons. And as exhaustion slowly set in, he was becoming more concerned about his state of combat worthiness. Fatigue would drag him down, make him more unaware. He couldn't protect Ashley like that.

He wasn't interested in considering when her safety had become all important. Tripping together in the dark the only sane thing they had to cling to was each other. And in some deep way she needed him- depended on him. There was a time when everything fit neatly under the mission but more and more her need meant something to him.

Blinking quickly Leon squeezed the bridge of his nose, trying to clear his head. Too many thoughts, none of them about what was happening at hand. He needed to be focused, too concentrate on keeping them alive. But he was so tired- a little rest couldn't hurt.

Ashley was shivering despite her sweater. The cold and vaguely damp stone did not make for the best sleeping position. Wishing not for the first time that he still had his jacket, Leon wrapped his arms around her and leaned her against his side. Placing his loaded handgun safely in reach, he closed his eyes to the sound of her breathing.

* * *

What places he walked, where even the walls could swallow you.

Ashley was gone, vanished behind a layer of impassable stone, barricaded from what little safety he could offer her. He felt guilty, like it was his fault. He felt like he had failed.

Now it was a race to reach her.

The sewer reflected noises at odd angles, mixed into an ambient audio level that ebbed and flowed like the water itself. Grimly he realized it would be extremely difficult to discern the position of any enemies by sound alone. Twisted by strange acoustics even his own watery footsteps seemed to come from every direction. And with the walls and ceiling distorted by the wavering liquid reflections he didn't trust his eyes all that much either.

It was perhaps for these reasons that the first attack caught him by complete surprise.

Something solid and heavy caught him in the midsection at the same time an alien screech reverberated through his ears. The breath knocked from his lungs, Leon smacked painfully into the wall and fell with a splash into the shallow water. Moving with a tightly controlled urgency he rolled back upright, bringing his shotgun to bear. He had little time to think about it- at the first sign of some strange luminescence heading quickly towards him he fired.

The buckshot caught his invisible enemy at close quarters, tossing it violently onto its back. Whatever sophisticated camouflage the thing possessed momentarily faded as it thrashed through the water, releasing deafening screams in its pain. His first impressions were of a large insect like creature, but he wasn't interested in a live biology lesson- he'd settle for an autopsy. Chambering another shell he fired into what he judged to be its head, putting an end to its cries.

There would be more. There was no way he was lucky enough to have met the only such creature.

Steeling himself, Leon stepped further into the dank reaches of the tunnels.

* * *

Relief was not a strong enough word to cover the feelings that flooded through Leon when he held her safely again, a subtle quaking still running through her fine bones. She was soft and warm but even more importantly, alive. He had never felt as helpless as when she had disappeared into the door, leaving him to stand and wait for her return. His mind had never thought further ahead than that. They were each a crutch to the other, a necessary support. Should one of them fall, the madness that surrounded this place would crush the one left behind, like a limb separated from its host, withered and dying.

Then she raised her head from his chest to meet his gaze with hazel eyes that said things they didn't have the time to explore. And brief touch, heart to heart, and then need drove them further down the darkened path.

When this was over, maybe they could talk about it.


	6. Scenes from a Waking III

He felt like he was starring in some sick action blockbuster, complete with the standard goals of killing the bad guys and saving the girl. Yet again she had been taken from him, but this time she was just out of reach in a way that was driving him mad. He knew exactly where she was and a horde of enemies bogged him down, keeping him from her. Locks and puzzles stymied his every move. Her plaintive cries were a soundtrack for his frustration.

_Help me Leon! Help me!_

It tore at him in places he didn't know he had.

A shaky tremor of breath around the next corner grabbed his attention, pulling him back to the task at hand. It was a repetitive death rattle, a dry husk of laughter dragged from gelatinous lips. The second he emerged into the next corridor it began shuffling towards him, still chuckling wetly. It seemed to feel no need to hurry, but of course it had little reason to.

Fortunately, Leon knew the answer to this biological conundrum. His rifle with its complimentary infrared scope made quick work of the creature's lifeblood. It screamed once when the first internal leech was popped like a boil; by the time Leon shot the last, it wouldn't stop. Whatever pain the thing was in came to a gory halt when it exploded over the white walls, caking them in a nameless grey slime. Leon was long since inured to the carnage. The edges of his nails were stained a deep red, and he smelled like a slaughterhouse. Any additional bodily substances added to him at this point would be purely cosmetic, as he was fairly certain he had reached the threshold of stench.

_Leon, please. I need you._

Had that voice echoed in the hall or simply in his mind? The frantic pulse of it beat in the back of his brain.

He had to save her.

* * *

_Ashley's voice was hoarse from screaming but she continued despite the pain, thinking it might be Leon's only way of locating her. If he was still alive. She recoiled from the thought, redoubling her efforts._

_Leon! I'm in here!_

_She had no more tears to spare for her situation and the fear was slowly merging into anger. Anger was good – it gave her strength. She was tired of being shipped about like baggage. She was exhausted, and filthy, and she wanted to go home. Concentration on this strain of thought prevented her from delving too deeply into the true nature of her circumstances. It was shallow, but it was all she had. At least until Leon found her again._

_And he would. He always did. He __**had**__ to._

_Help me Leon!_

* * *

The industrial truck rumbled down the track with a plodding certainty, and while Leon could appreciate reliability in a machine, the amount of Ganados closing the distance behind them made him feel that perhaps more speed was required.

"Step on it, Ashley!" he yelled, eyeing the approaching force. "We need to go faster!"

Her blond hair bobbed briefly into view as he turned for a moment to get her response. "This is as fast as it goes! I've got the pedal all the way down!"

"There's not a lever or anything?" His haphazard guesses on the nature of the truck were interrupted by the sound and corresponding jolt of a Ganado leaping onto the flatbed. Spinning in a quick 180 he caught the crazed man with a snap shot to the stomach. Although not enough to kill him, the force of it sent him tumbling with a howl back onto the road. Several of his fellow madmen were tripped by his flailing limbs, sending them crashing into a tangled heap.

Ashley winced at the sharp noise of the gunshot, having still not become fully accustomed to gunfire. Still, her hands firmly gripped the wheel, unwavering. Leon was trusting her to do this. She was sure he didn't fully understand what that meant to her, but she wasn't going to let him down. He made her stronger than she thought she could be.

"I can do this, Leon," she whispered as the sounds of vicious combat started up behind her.

She didn't turn around. She had to believe that he would be alright.

* * *

She was gone again, but this time it was so much worse, for she had walked away under her own power. And he had sat there, convulsing, pale and weak. Too weak to stop Saddler. His own body rebelled against him. What use was it?

And her body – the thought of a parasite, a living wound spreading like cancer into the flesh underneath her porcelain skin made him nauseous. Briefly, he tasted bile, but it wasn't as bitter as what was pouring from his heart. He had failed to protect her. He had fallen short of her trust in him.

He couldn't decide which was worse.

She needed him so clearly and so much, but when the time came he hadn't even been able to save her from herself. He hadn't been able to move. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, feeling like a Judas.

But his own pain wouldn't be enough to stop him from cutting the price of thirty pieces of silver from Saddler's skin.

How fitting it was that it should come down to this, Leon thought dimly. Just him and Krauser. Both betrayers, both responsible for the suffering of an innocent girl. One repentant, one uncaring. A self-destructing Janus, a self-fulfilling prophecy. The knife in his hand slipped lower as the parasite twitched inside of him. He retched, vomiting on the stone blocks as Krauser circled him, laughing.

"Not up to the job, Leon?" Krauser shrugged, as if he had known all along that would be the case. "Can't say I'm surprised. You've always had to live with being second best."

Leon couldn't feel the sting of the words through the pain the parasite was inflicting on him. He coughed, desperately wishing that the convulsions would cease.

"Jesus, Leon." Krauser shook his head. "You're a mess. I don't know how you managed to stay alive this long."

Slowly, the trembling in his system was fading. Leon could feel some of his strength returning as the parasite settled back to rest.

"Of course, you've had a little help. I can see how a man could drive himself a bit harder with Ashley to hold his hand."

Even through the haze of pain Leon looked up sharply.

Krauser barked out a laugh. "You think I don't know? But really, Leon, you're only human, and she's, well, the only female human. I'm discounting that bitch Ada – besides, you already had your shot at her." Krauser leered. "Yeah, I get it. Ashley? I would fuck her." Krauser made a crude gesture with his fingers.

The rage this sparked inside of Leon was without measure, a fire hot enough to scour his head clean of the dizziness. He had the sudden mental image of Krauser roughly pawing Ashley's breasts through her sweater as he jammed his other hand down her skirt. The shortly imagined sounds of her strangled sighs and the slick whispers of Krauser's fingers inside of her exploded into a fury that went streaking through Leon's veins.

Krauser barely deflected the knife blow, shock etched on his face as the blades sparked off each other. Caught unprepared, the follow up sidekick caught the traitor firmly in the ribs, knocking him into a wall. Krauser recovered with inhuman speed, jumping backwards to stand unaffected.

"Good, Leon! For a moment I thought you were going down easy. Now I see the only one who goes down easy is Ashley," Krauser said, taking another verbal stab at Leon's soft spots. "But don't worry yourself about it – I'll take very, very good care of her when you're dead."

"No," Leon said, the rage driving the weakness from his extremities, "I don't think that's going to happen."


	7. Scenes from a Waking IV

Leon breathed in deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he met Ashley's wide, uncertain gaze.

"Let's do it," he said. She bit her lip in another moment of worry, still unsure. He took a brief moment to enjoy the unintentional eroticism of her action, then hastened to reassure her. "It's the best chance we have, Ashley. I think we have to do it."

Sighing her consent, her small, graceful hands began to move across the console, starting the strange machine Leon found himself lying beneath. Closing his eyes again, Leon waited for the procedure to begin.

Ashley stared at the blinking prompt before her.

PROCEDE? (**Y**es\**N**o)

If this hurt Leon, what would she do? She couldn't face the prospect of being alone after coming so far. It would be another crushing blow that she no longer had the fortitude to face.

Her dependence on him had grown into a need, and that need in turn had blossomed into something else: a quiet yearning deep in the reaches of her heart. She hadn't dared put a name to it, not yet. But softly, in the back of her mind, it demanded things from her. It told her to take his hand, to brush the hair away from his eyes. To hold him close when she had the chance. To trust him.

She wanted so badly to do these things, but there wasn't time for such moments. So she placed all her hopes in the thought escaping and returning to a world where that small thing in her chest would have the leisure to search for an answer both within itself, and within him.

She hit the Y key.

When it was over Leon sat up, coughing slightly. "Wow. That hurt like hell."

Ashley grasped his hands excitedly, just happy he had survived. "It worked! Oh, I thought you might die."

"No, I seem to be in one piece," he said wryly. "Your turn."

As she climbed onto the table he resisted the urge to try and sneak a peek up her skirt. He was fairly certain she wouldn't all that happy had she known that he had already memorized the decorative pattern around the waist of her panties. There was no point in pushing his luck.

It would be easier to control himself if she hadn't grown so beautiful. Beautiful Ashley. It had melded into one word over the course of his time with her. Beautifulashley. When had she become so desirable? Even in the midst of the terrors around them he found ways to touch her, to take her hand, to gently place his hand on the small of her back to guide her, to gently lift her over things. It was a messily emotional tangle of feelings that he hadn't had the spare time to sort out. Maybe it was simply a matter of availability, of convenience. That seemed like a cheap answer, though. Events often drew people together, but that didn't mean it was nothing.

All this was assuming she even felt a modicum of the same thing. He knew she was grateful, and that she respected and trusted him. Beyond that, he was groping in the dark.

He momentarily indulged himself with the various images that the phrase 'groping in the dark' conjured, and then started the procedure.

* * *

The remains of what had once been Osmund Saddler lay bubbling and steaming amongst the steel I-beams. He was dead, and the island that had been his sanctuary was dying with him.

Leon wasn't certain how much time they had to escape, but he knew it couldn't be much. Firmly gripping Ashley's hand, he fled down the tunnels. The key Ada had thrown him jingled in one of his front pockets, a faint reminder of its presence. Whatever the key was for, he hoped it was fast.

Deep booms echoed into Ashley's ears over the sound of her own harsh breathing. There was no time to stop and catch her breath, so she ignored the burning in her lungs and clung tighter to Leon's hand. Wherever he was taking her, she trusted him to get them out, like he always had. Perhaps that was naïve, but she didn't care. At least she had faith to hold on to.

They emerged into an open space on the edge of an underground river. Leon briefly wondered if it was the same river he had traveled on before until he sheepishly remembered that river had been on the mainland. Roped to a dock on the swift-moving water was a Jetski, fitting the bill for the fast vehicle requirement.

Leon jumped on board, the Jetski settling beneath him. Ashley's comforting weight and warmth became pressed against his back when her arms wrapped tightly around his middle. Leon jammed the key into the ignition and started the small watercraft, throwing the rope off back to the dock.

"Hang on sweetheart!" he shouted over the roar of the water.

Ashley felt a brief flutter in her chest at the endearment before all thought was erased by the crashing waves as the Jetski sped towards the exit.

An ever-loudening roar was her first clue of what was behind them. Turning her head around to squint through the spray, she immediately saw what was approaching. "_Leon! There's a huge wave behind us!_"

"_I know, I know!_" Leon shouted back. He urgently gunned the engine in an attempt to milk more speed out of the craft. "_Just hold on!_"

Ashley buried her face into his back and braced for the worst.

With a crashing crescendo the tiny Jetski was shot from the tunnel like a bullet from a gun. Ashley felt her legs be forcibly blown back by the sheer momentum of the movement – with her footing lost, her grip failed and she fell kicking and flailing into the water.

The Jetski smashed into the surf. Leon braced both feet before impact to prevent from either being slammed into the dashboard or flung forward over the handlebars. When the vehicle finally settled in the water, he realized with dawning panic that Ashley was no longer behind him.

He desperately scanned the surroundings, but there was no sign of her in the bobbing waves. "Ashley? Ashley!"

To his relief she emerged coughing and sputtering only a few yards away, treading water while pushing the hair from her eyes. "I'm here!" she shouted blindly, still unable to see but waving one arm in the air.

A smile forced its way onto his face as she floundered in the waves. The call of mischief tugging at him, he remained silent for a few moments.

"Leon?" A note of fear entered her voice. "Leon? Where are you?"

He laughed then, gunning the craft over to scoop her from the waters. Regaining the use of her vision she narrowed her eyes at him, smacking him playfully on the shoulder. "Oh yeah, that was really funny, Leon."

He only laughed again, and the sound swept her along with it to the joyous feelings of freedom. She laughed too – she didn't know why, since it definitely hadn't been funny. But it felt right.

It was over now. The full import of what they had done, and what had been done to them, came crashing down around her. Through such terrible trials he had brought her. Through the darkness, he had led the way. She owed him so much, she thought, and had so little to give in return.

She had placed her trust where it would never be broken, in his hands. Overwhelmed, she expressed this the only way she knew how.

Leon was silenced when he felt her slim arms wrap around him again, her face burying against his neck. The feeling of her breath made him breathe easier.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you."

There was nothing more to be said.

* * *

The island was little more than a rocky outcropping on the lake, a small jut of black stone weathered by the wind and spray. Lonely and bleak, it stood not far from the mainland shore, overlooking the woods. It would serve as adequate shelter for the time being.

Leon was busily clearing the small spit of land, gathering up scrubby brush and piling the fruit of his labors into a heap. Driven by a deep need to be helpful, Ashley also scoured the area for burnable wood.

Pausing in his effort, Leon watched with some amusement as she gingerly stepped her way around the uneven terrain, looking completely out of place in her ragged sweater and skirt. She was barefoot despite the chill, cradling sticks and driftwood in her arms while the wind played with her hair. Even now after the true threats were over, he felt fiercely protective of her in a way he didn't fully understand. Tossing his burden on the pile, he made his way over to her.

"Need any help with that?" he offered. She looked up at him, her soft eyes backlit by the setting sun. She said nothing. Her eyes ran the length of him, her body language seemingly at ease in the absence of speech. He himself felt faintly uncomfortable, like he was being studied. Her warm lips curved in a small smile.

"Eager to please, Mr. Kennedy?" she teased him.

He realized with a start that he didn't know this Ashley, who walked around barefoot and smiled. This beautiful stranger was one he had never seen before. The entire time they had spent together had both been tired and fearful.

"Well, you know me," he mumbled through a grin. Boldly, he did some teasing of his own. "I'll do anything for a kiss."

"Payment upon delivery," she said quickly, holding out her bundle of sticks. Leon eyed her, certain she was just messing around. How far was he willing to run with this? To, he admitted to himself, its preferable conclusion.

Taking the bundle from her, he crossed over to the accumulated stack of debris and tossed it on the top. Turning to face her, he raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's my part of the deal."

"Then I guess," Ashley said coyly, closing the distance between them, "that I'd better pay up."

Somewhere in the back of his head Leon fuzzily recognized that his palms were sweating, but he stammered out a response. "Wouldn't want to have to report you to the BBB."

"No," she said, now very close to him, "we wouldn't want that…"

Then she kissed him, and it was like living again.


	8. Departures and Landfalls

The helicopters arrived in the dawn, disturbing the air with the steady chop of their blades. The familiar noise woke Leon from the first peaceful sleep he had been able to have in what felt like years, despite the entire gamut of events running merely a little more than two days. The whirring craft headed straight to the piers where Saddler had met his end, and Leon suspected he had something else to thank Ada for.

Stretching his legs with a fair amount of pain, Leon carefully extracted himself from Ashley's arms, moving out from under the rock they had spent the night beneath huddling together from the cold. Reaching into one of the back cases on his tactical belt, he extracted a flare and ran to the center of the rock. Thumbing the cap, he ignited it and waved it in a long arc over his head.

The hiss and brightness of the flare shocked Ashley to wakefulness and she opened her eyes, confused and not yet fully awake. "Leon?" Her arms unconsciously felt the still warm space next to her. "Leon, where are you?"

"Here," he shouted. When she emerged from their makeshift sleeping area he pointed towards the twin choppers. "I think that's our ride."

The way her face lit up made something inside him quiver, and parasites had nothing to do with it. With the morning breeze ruffling her hair and her eyes bright against the dawning sun he thought she had never looked more beautiful. The kiss – they hadn't talked about it. But they would, he resolved. Whatever this was, he wasn't willing to let it slip away.

The team of helicopters roared over their small spit of land, lashing the water with waves of disturbed air. One of them centered itself over the top, its side door sliding away while the other flew in a circular waiting pattern. Several men and a harness were quickly and efficiently lowered to the rocky soil, running to the two survivors with the dim rattle of equipment. From their uniforms Leon recognized them as Marines. He noticed they were wearing full hazard gear, including filter masks.

"_Miss Graham,"_the lead soldier shouted over the chopper blades, his voice muffled from the headgear. _"Come with us please, this way."_

Ashley reluctantly followed as the men formed up around her, swiftly moving her towards the waiting harness. She threw a worried look over her shoulder._"Wait, what about Leon?"_

As if remembering Leon's presence, the soldier turned to shout back at him. _"The other chopper is for you, Agent; you'll be debriefed when we reach the carrier."_

Leon nodded and waved them off, but Ashley stubbornly dug in her heels. _"No he's my bodyguard, he needs to go with us!"_

The soldier shook his head, firmly taking her arm again. _"The other chopper is for him ma'am, we have orders to extract you immediately. Please get into the harness so we can take you up."_

"_But I need him to come with us-"_

"_Miss Graham, you're going to be transferred to Marine One on arrival, he won't be going with you. Please, get in the harness."_

"_I am not going anywhere without Leon-"_

Reaching forward the soldier grabbed her arms and pulled her towards the waiting harness._"We need to hurry. Please get in the harness, now!"_

Ashley struggled against his implacable grip, trying to brace herself against the ground. _"Leon!"_

The sight of her being dragged away coupled with her screaming, and instantly a thousand terrible images flashed through Leon's mind of what was and what might have been. All rational thought was burned away by her cries for help.

Rushing forward, Leon knocked the soldier away from her and pulled her back towards him._"Don't you fucking touch her!"_

Immediately the surrounding troops shoved Leon back, some even bringing their weapons up uncertainly. The commander recovered from his stumble and looked at Leon incredulously. _"Step back, Agent, I'm not going to warn you again-"_

"_No!" _Ashley screamed over all of them. She sat down, glaring at the men. _"I am not moving from this spot unless Leon is going with me, and if you try to move me yourself you can be sure my father is going to hear about it!"_

Helplessly, the soldier in charge looked up to the hovering chopper door. The man in charge of the winch raised his arms in a 'don't know' gesture, then pointed to his helmet radio and shook his head. The commander sighed._"Alright, Miss Graham. Get in the harness and we'll take him up next."_

Still Ashley refused._"I don't think so. You send him up first."_

The commander silently relented, motioning for Leon to strap himself into the harness. Leon stood, looking at Ashley questioningly. Uncharacteristically, she revealed nothing, turning her head away. Now severely impatient, the troops pulled him over to the harness, being none too gentle in the process.

On his way up, Leon took opportunity of his altitude to survey the destruction of the island. Smoke still rose from some parts of it and the surrounding water was churned muddy with rubble. Little was left of the plant that had once stood there.

Once Ashley was also safely onboard and the Marines were seated, the helicopter set off again, followed closely by the second one. Leon leaned forward, yelling a question to the commander. _"What's our destination?"_

"_The USS Peregrine," _the Marine shouted back. _"It's currently stationed north of the Mar De Alboran, ETA two hours."_

Leon nodded, settling back in his seat. Something heavy landed against his shoulder – when he looked down he discovered it was Ashley's head, her blond hair falling gently to cover him. Leaning down, he put his mouth close to her ear. "What was that all about?" he asked her.

She raised her head to meet his confused gaze. With a small smile, she shrugged, leaning close to his ear to answer. "A little paranoid, I guess. Hey, it's not like I don't have good reasons to be."

He had to give her that one. Resting her head back on his shoulder, Ashley fell silent. He followed suit, closing his eyes to the curious gazes of the Marines.

* * *

Leon was awoken by the jolt of the helicopter as it came to rest on the carrier deck. The side door was thrown open and they quickly exited, Ashley stumbling out still half asleep and almost tripping on several of the small protrusions that dotted the runway.

Squinting in the bright sun, Ashley reached over and tugged on Leon's sleeve. "_Where are we going?_" She was still forced to shout over the whine of jet engines as several aircraft were being readied for takeoff close by.

Leon pointed down the strip to the almost insect-like outline of the presidential helicopter Marine One. _"You're going home with your father. I think I'll be meeting my superiors below deck."_

"_What? You're not coming with me?" _She looked worried.

Already she was being led off towards the helicopter while he was moving back towards the bridge. _"You should be with your father now, I have to report on my mission."_

"_Leon!"_

"_I'll see you soon!"_ He waved to her, having no idea when he was going to see her again. Still watching him over her shoulder, she disappeared into the side door.

Feeling like he had misplaced something, Leon descended into the bowels of the ship.

He traveled down numerous metal corridors and bulkheads until he was led to a door, inside which was a blank white room filled with various medical instruments, a walled off area of clear plastic, several men standing around in full biohazard gear, and a haggard looking Johnathan Trask who was also decked out in hazard clothes.

"Leon! Jesus H. Christ." John sank into a plastic covered chair behind him as if those words had drained his last dregs of stamina. "I send you to ask some questions and you blow up a goddamn island. The Spanish government is throwing a fit, the President is too tied up in seeing his daughter again to make decisions, and we've got hundreds of civilian casualties linked to some sort of biological outbreak."

As he said this Leon was led to the plastic containment room and sealed inside. Taking quick stock of his surroundings he walked over to a speaker by the door and spoke into it.

"I-" Leon started.

"That's a damn fine job, Agent," John concluded. "A goddamn fine job. And now it's storytime. Have a seat."

The containment area was stocked only with a plain white table and chair. Leon pulled the chair up to the speaker and sat.

John raised his hands to rub his eyes until he remembered that he couldn't through his visor, and instead looked at Leon expectantly. "Okay. Last time I saw you, you were headed to the airport taking the 6:25 to Spain. Why the hell didn't you contact us?"

Reaching down to his belt, Leon unclipped his A\V Uplink. He placed it face first on the clear divider, allowing everyone to see the large hole it was sporting. "It blocked a pick for me. A little lower and I'd have a matching hole in my leg."

John shook his head. "Probably would have been better if you did, I think a limp is preferable to going solo." He paused to study Leon more closely. "We found the squad car in the ravine and what's left of the village. Whatever samples we get will have to come from the island, since it's more isolated. We're working with the Spanish government right now, the mainland area is being quarantined, then we'll burn it."

"The jets?"

"Right. We hope a firestorm will kill off anything that could potentially spread."

"I doubt it. It's parasitical, not viral. Just be careful if you send anyone into the caves, there are spores there that can cause infection."

The way he said it made John frown. "Ashley is being looked over by a doctor now, anything we should know?"

"Anything you can find. We were both injected with eggs. They hatched into a full blown organism, but we found a machine inside the island labs that removed them. Unfortunately, it's probably destroyed now."

John stood up. "Okay then, doctor first, talk later."

"John-"

John stopped him with a raised hand. "Plenty of time for debrief later, Leon, we need to make sure you won't die on us first."

Leon wasn't stupid – he knew the standard procedure for a possible biological contamination. "How long, John?"

"A month."


	9. A Sort of Quarantine

Because of the lack of windows in his sterile compartment the only way Leon could tell that the plane was descending was when his ears began to pop. Sighing heavily in the recycled air of that chamber, Leon reminded himself that his current situation was for the good of everyone. That didn't make the isolation chafe much less.

He was in the retrofitted cargo hold of a jet aircraft, confined in his usual clear plastic box and surrounded by clean white living accoutrements. He had been given various books to amuse himself with and John regularly visited him with updates both on his condition and the continuing results of his actions in Spain, but more and more he found his thoughts turning to Ashley, and he wondered what was happening to her amidst all of it.

His stay aboard the Peregrine had lasted only a few days before he had been transferred to the plane. John had explained he was being taken back to the States, to a remote CDC installation for observation during his quarantine. Quarantine. It felt more like an incarceration to him. John had been less than sympathetic, stating that Leon knew full well the possible unknown risks involved in his exposure to the parasites. While he understood that he was acting somewhat childish, there wasn't much else to do in his box but sulk.

The bump and squeak of the landing wheels hitting a runway brought him from his thoughts. The door leading to the forward compartments opened and one of the pilots, dutifully masked, stuck his head in.

"Agent Kennedy, we've arrived, sir. When we taxi to the unloading zone, you need to move with the men that will come to get you as quickly as possible to the containment center."

Leon nodded his understanding, standing up from his sitting position to move to the back of his cube.

It wasn't long before the loading bay of the plane hissed open on its hydraulics and several masked and suited men swiftly moved him down white tile hallways to a sort of shower conveyor belt that looked like it would be normally used for chemical washes, where he was treated to another embarrassing public shower and physical. He was quickly becoming tired of being poked, prodded, and measured, but wearily he knew he still had a little less than a month to go before freedom was restored to him.

By the time they had finished examining him Leon was feeling an acute sympathy towards grocery shelf cantaloupe. Handed another disposable pair of papery drawstring pants and matching shirt, he was led out of the scrub room and down another featureless hallway to his next residence, which he was pleased to note was a real room with a real door, albeit a room and door with a complete absence of windows.

The room was a small rectangle of a space, with two beds on either wall, a small bathroom entrance in the back left corner, a bookcase against the far wall stacked high with board games and cheap novels, and that was about it. Like most places built by the military, it was not designed with any considerations towards privacy in mind. A green plastic sheet hung from a slide bar in the middle of the room and it could be drawn to separate the beds – apart from that there were no other concessions to personal space. The bathroom lacked a door, and the shower stall within did too and was lined up directly with the opening into the main room. It was clear that the accommodations had been originally intended to cater to a more incapacitated class of client, what with the easy access shower stall and low to the floor toilet. Fortunately, he was flying solo for this lock in.

When the door closed behind him with a heavy thud he felt like he had been entombed. The room was absolutely silent, lacking even so much as the faint buzz of fluorescent lighting. He had a brief image of himself sitting on the floor against one wall while endlessly bouncing a ball against the other.

He sighed again. They could have at least given him a little more room to pace.

* * *

It was Monday again. Each morning they came and took his clothes away to be incinerated, leaving him with a fresh pair. The matching papery shirt and pants were a different color every day. Today was pink day. It clashed horribly with his fair skin and hair and made him look like a big tub of Pepto Bismol. A sad, lonely tub of Pepto Bismol.

He hated the crackly rustle the clothes made when he moved. He hated the too bright ambient lighting. He hated the healthy and unfailingly bland meals that were delivered to him three times a day. He hated the poor choice of novels available to him. He hated the chemical smelling bathroom with its rough soap and caustic shampoo. He just hated the place he was in.

During the day he stared at the ceiling, read bad books and slowly counted away the hours. At night he laid his head on the raspy pillowcase and dreamed. Sometimes the dreams were more memory than anything – monsters stalked his nightscape. Other times they were a jumble of the present, the past and the sheer lunacy that played a part in all dreams. But some nights he found himself waking up to the barely remembered sensation of soft skin against his lips, of blond hair feathered out on the pillow next to him. His senses prickled to the fading imprint of warm kisses. Sometimes he could almost smell her.

He was fairly certain he was going crazy in his confinement.

It wasn't until several such dreams had driven him to desperation that he carefully checked the room for cameras so he could masturbate in the relative surety that he wasn't being watched. If they had seen anything, they didn't give it away. After awhile he stopped caring, since there wasn't much else to do.

There was something was different about this Monday. Several pairs of footsteps had come and gone in the hallway outside his door. He had expected them to come inside; physicals were a daily ritual to monitor his progress, or thus far his lack of it. The doctors inevitably had cold hands but at least they wore rubber gloves.

But the hurried pace the footsteps held today were out of place in the almost oppressive calm the facility kept. He considered it fortunate that the room wasn't soundproof. In the complete absence of windows, silence would have cemented his seclusion.

The click of the door lock disengaging seemed loud in the small space, and he jerked himself upright with resignation, awaiting another physical. Instead he was surprised to find John stepping into the room, suited in the usual biohazard array. The mask he wore did little to hide the annoyance on his face.

"John?"

"Leon. There's been a change of plans." The way he said it made it very clear that he had not been involved in the decision making. "This goes against all recommendations and frankly I don't fucking like it when people go over my head-"

A voice rang out in the hallway behind him, along with the clatter of multiple footsteps. "Leon!"

All his attention was immediately pulled from John. The voice was intimately familiar. "Ashley? Is that you?"

Ashley pushed past John and flung herself at Leon. Only some quick thinking saved him from being knocked over backwards as he braced himself against the bed frame. Her slender arms squeezed him tightly and dimly he began to register that she was wearing the same sort of clothes that he was. With nothing but a thin sheet of paper separating them, the full body embrace was decidedly inappropriate. Bewildered, he returned her embrace while trying to think of a way to remove her before anyone else came in the room.

"Oh my God, I'm so glad to see you, you're okay," she babbled.

"Ashley? Ashley, what are you doing here?"

John was still talking over the commotion. "-under direct orders to move her. I was very clear that I didn't like it but the President wouldn't-"

"-I didn't know where they had taken you, they said I couldn't see you or anything-"

"What? Where? Ashley, you're standing on my foot-"

"-Had to assure the President this was a secure location, the staff aren't prepared for a second detainee, we'll have to pull another set of doctors-"

"Hold it!" He shout brought both of them to a standstill, though Ashley still didn't relinquish her grip around his neck. "Sir, what exactly is going on here?"

John shot Ashley a dark look – she merely turned away and buried her face back in Leon's neck. "Miss Graham requested that she be moved to quarantine with you. The President consented… After some time and under duress."

Ashley moved her head up to whisper in his ear, "I whined."

Leon blinked. "Isn't this against containment procedure?"

"Yes. But under direct orders, I… Look. I'm just doing my job. If you still desire a more complete explanation, ask Miss Graham. In the meantime, I have to make arrangements for this."

John left, still looking more than a little pissed off. The heavy door boomed loudly behind him as it closed. Leon knew that he hated being overruled. Turning his head he looked down at Ashley, who once again planted her face against his shoulder and refused to meet his gaze. "Ashley, what the fuck is going on?"

Her small fingers fiddled with the edge of his shirt around his neck, occasionally brushing his skin in a contact that sent minute shivers down his spine. "After we left the boat-"

"Ship."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, ship. After we left the ship they took me to a place like this one." She moved away from him for a moment to survey their surroundings. "Though it was a little more upscale. Anyway, I kept asking about you but they said I couldn't leave." She shrugged. "I was bored, and lonely. I wanted to see you."

The confession sparked a few emotions that Leon couldn't name. Ashley continued, "So when my Dad came to visit, I complained. A lot." She had the grace to look sheepish. "After awhile he told them to take me here to stay with you. I mean, that's okay, right? Didn't you want company?"

"Well, yeah. I guess so." It was a massive understatement, but he played it cool.

"See? It won't be so bad if we're in here together."

His legs were starting to fall asleep and he wondered if she ever intended to get off of him. His quandary was solved when she slipped from his lap to wander around the room, inspecting it. She wrinkled her nose as she took full stock of their accommodations. Upon seeing the wide open bathroom, her mild disgust turned into something verging on panic.

"Um, Leon? The shower doesn't have a door." She pointed, despite her target being only several feet away of Leon and in obvious full view from his bed against the right hand wall. "And neither does the bathroom. And they're lined up with each other."

The realities of the living space came flooding back to him as he really began thinking about the details of them sharing the room. "It used to be a nursing room, I think. For people too banged up to take care of themselves."

"That's nice," she said absently, still looking at the exhibitionist bathroom. "What are we going to do about it?"

"I guess we could ask them for a sheet or something."

John reemerged through the door, not looking any appreciably calmer. "Okay, things are in motion. And before I leave I'd like you to know, Miss Graham, that your presence will not be allowed to interfere with the quarantine procedures. This is a matter of national security and that does not allow for pampering. Is that understood?"

"Yes," Ashley said meekly, obviously choosing her battles. John grunted in response, slamming the door behind him again. Leon looked over at her, seeing she had returned to her worried contemplation of the restroom.

"Regretting certain decisions at this point?"

She smiled at him then, a beautiful full mouthed grin. "Not for a moment."


	10. Implosion

His new situation was about a hundred times worse than he could have ever imagined.

It was torture. Obviously he had exhibited some form of masochism when he had accepted Ashley's transfer to his little cell. And if he had been going crazy before her arrival, well, destination reached. He was certifiably insane. The irony wasn't lost on him.

The problem was that she was just so fucking _close_ to him all of the time.

Her attire, or the general lack of it, was a key factor in his degenerating self-control. The loose disposal outfits they were given each day did little to conceal the heft of her less than subtle curves. And sometimes her drawstring pants would slip down a little bit, just enough for him to see the top swell of her ass…

Oh, yes. He was going quite insane.

It was her closeness, however, that brought their current state of affairs to the point of unbearable. It was bad enough to watch her heavy breasts sway and bounce with her every move. Having it happen within arms reach? Being able to smell her, feel her presence mere inches away, having her smile at him, touch his hand, brush against him as they moved in the tiny room? _Madness_. Some days it was all he could do not to reach over, rip the flimsy shirt from her beautiful, smooth body and lick every inch of it.

He was literately salivating at the thought. He needed to stop thinking about it, and quickly.

That was a difficult thing to do when she was showering mere feet away. He was dutifully staying behind his side of the drawn green divider, but her blurred outline was still clearly imprinted upon it. It was the best shadow puppet show in the world. He was familiar enough with the shapes now; he only wished he could place the proper textures and colors.

Biting his lip hard, he shook his head. She trusted him to stick to the rules and he was following the letter of the law instead of the spirit. Looking back, he wondered how he had ever thought he would be fine with their arrangement. It took nearly every bit of his willpower to resist the urge to take just one quick look while he listened to the water sluice down her body. Whatever determination remained was used to prevent himself from getting up and sliding into the shower with her, pressing her against one tile wall and capturing those soft lips in a hard kiss, then moving slowly down her supple form and molding her pliable breasts with his hands while swirling his tongue through her delicate belly button before lowering his head and slipping his tongue into that delicious pink cleft beneath golden curls-

"Leon?"

Leon jumped so hard that for a moment he thought he was having a cardiac event as her query jerked him from his fantasy. He fumbled with the book he hadn't been reading before giving a shaky response. "Yeah?"

"Did you remember to ask your boss about getting better shampoo? I hate this stuff."

"Uh, no. I forgot."

"Leon," she said, her exasperated voice echoing from the stall, "please, try to remember next time. This stuff is terrible. It burns my hands."

"That just means it's working," he quipped, regaining his equilibrium as his breathing slowed to normal.

"Well great, I guess my hands are well conditioned then." The sound of the water stopped as she turned the handle to the off position. He could hear her bare feet slapping wetly around the drain set in the floor as she toweled herself off. "And that's another thing, these towels are bad too. It's like drying yourself with burlap."

"Builds character."

He could practically hear her roll her eyes. There was a rustle as she donned her set of clothes and then a few more steps before her bed squeaked as she collapsed on it. "Okay, I'm dressed now."

Sitting up and reaching over, Leon pulled back the hanging green sheet that separated them. Laying on her back with her eyes closed, Ashley's still damp hair was spread over her thin pillow in a vivid déjà vu to some of the dreams Leon could remember having recently.

Ashley could feel his eyes on her and she smiled to herself, knowing he would wonder what she was smiling about. All day, every day, she knew he was watching her. And if she put a little more bounce in her step or a little more wiggle in her hips, it was only because he was driving her crazy too.

It was an issue of proximity, she had decided. Their mutual attraction had been muted during their tenure in Spain – covered by several layers of blood. The battle they had found themselves embroiled in had not lent itself to lustful exploration. But now with both of them clean, relatively healthy, and in a good state of mind, it was difficult to ignore. Added on top of that was their relentless close quarters contact. Leon's loose hospital gown material pants left little to the imagination as he moved about their tiny space, and she had seen him attempt to surreptitiously tuck away more than a few erections. His distinct lack of good choices when it came to obscuring his little (or not so little, as she had noted) problem had caused him no end of embarrassing situations. She allowed him what slight dignity he could preserve by pretending she hadn't noticed. But she had. And it was steadily becoming more than she could bear.

Unfortunately, their consistent nearness left no opportunity for self-relief. In the absence of the necessary privacy to take her own problem into hand, so to speak, her suffering increased with each passing day.

The air in the small room felt pressurized. Every second brought them closer to some not so distant critical mass. With such solid walls around them, no force could escape. They would not explode, but implode.

* * *

As usual, the inevitable occurred sooner than imagined.

There was nothing to mark the day as being any different from the rest, save the usual color coding courtesy of their imaginary government issued tailors. It was Yellow Day, a deceptively mild color for an unexpectedly momentous occasion. The seconds slipped by with all the speed of a snail and time was measured in board games.

It started with a shower. Ashley was the one using it, and Leon was comfortably indulging in his usual erotic shadow puppet show. They weren't talking to each other, not out of any personal distance but rather because their idle chatter had become as regimented as the rest of their schedule. It was shower time, not talking time. And with a little over twenty days of talk under their belts, they were finding themselves quickly running out of broader topics to cover. Concerning conversation, the river was running dry without moving to more personal territory. But that territory was on the other side of the line they wavered at with every passing moment. Until they crossed it, neither was comfortable divulging the deeper and perhaps darker sides of themselves.

There was nothing unusual about Ashley's shower. She went through the motions – shampoo, rinse, soap, rinse. Conditioner, face wash, and special scented body wash were all things that would have been inserted into her showering time card at one time, but in the bleak facility they were forced to call home such luxuries weren't available.

She stepped from the wet stall to stand dripping on the unpleasantly cold and slimy tile floor. Leon was oblivious behind his green divider, having stalled his lewd instincts by slipping into a doze.

She winced as she toweled herself off, the rough fabric painfully abrasive on her sensitive skin. That level of sensitivity had always been a source of aggravation for her; even the slightest scratches raised red welts that seemed to last forever, and with her pale complexion they were distressingly visible. She hated it, but there was little she could do about her genetics.

Wrapping the cheap towel tightly around herself, she moved back out into the room to retrieve the clothing she had left laying on the edge of her bed.

The following chain of events would only be recalled afterwards, and with some imprecision.

The sounds of Ashley moving about the room jarred Leon from his nap. Rolling over, he could see her shadow under the edge of the green divider as she reached for her folded clothing, intending to quickly don the yellow garb and inform Leon he could remove the curtain. But upon lifting the top part of the garment from her sheets the leg portion slipped from the bed and drifted underneath the divider to Leon's side of the room.

Through the thin sheet that separated them Leon could tell Ashley was wearing a towel, and therefore it was safe to temporarily remove it. Picking up the papery drawstring pants, he pushed aside the curtain and leaned forward to hand them to a grateful Ashley.

A mundane series of occurrences. The point of reaction would come from the tip of Ashley's blond hair as it lay against her graceful neck. A single drop of water stepped into the role of catalyst, igniting everything that had come before it like fire through a fuse.

The water drop escaped from her hair to roll downwards in accordance with the dictates of gravity, sliding across her collarbone before following the path of least resistance over the gentle swell of her right breast and tipping towards her cleavage.

At that moment, Ashley was in the process of leaning forward to accept Leon's offering of her wayward pants. The positioning afforded him a tantalizing view of her better assets. Some ray of light conspired to refract through the drop of water clinging to her intimate skin and caught his eye like a beacon. Impossible lust surged through him at the sight of that delicious drop sitting so wantonly on something even more delicious.

But this was nothing new. He had been suppressing such urges the second she had arrived to share his little containment room. Willpower had become a distressingly familiar companion. His tightly restrained impulses dogged his every tortured step as the two of them followed their daily routines.

Unfortunately, or perhaps _fortunately_,as things would turn out,this time was different. Events had conspired in such a way that restraint was no longer possible. Constant, unrelenting exposure to the object of his desire had worn his self-control down to the barest of threads. His reserves of discipline had finally been drained. There was nothing left in him to stem the tide.

And so he found himself leaning over just a little bit more and licking that drop right off of her. His mind was blank of all conscious thought with the sole exception of taste, which was blissfully buzzing with the mixed flavors of warm water and something only identifiable as uniquely Ashley.

Ashley froze at the unexpected sensation of his tongue running wetly along the side of her breast. In rapid succession she registered a plethora of sensations, each following more quickly than the last: pleasure and disbelief, followed by panic, which then morphed into something unquestionably hungry that she had kept under lock and key.

Leon realized what he had done scant milliseconds after he had done it. The savoring of the deed faded into utter horror, and he raised his head to meet her eyes, deathly afraid of what he might find there.

Instead as he melded his gaze with hers what he found was the same thing he could see in himself. The spark was very nearly palpable. Instinct crashed its way to the fore, shoving aside its more cultured cousins of reason and conscience. The time for reasoned thought was past.

Implosion.

It wasn't certain who crashed into who, but tongues tangled and teeth clashed as they met in a desperate, panting kiss that lacked even a trace of subtlety or finesse. They stayed locked in its torrential grip for a full ten seconds, oblivious to anything but the necessity of consummating their need.

They were joined at the mouth but lacked the coordination of a single body – Leon had risen from his bed and Ashley was going over backwards. The green dividing curtain was ripped from its holdings as she grabbed it to keep from falling, the plastic pieces that held it up raining around them. The symbolism of the act was lost in the moment.

Leon somehow managed to pull her back on her feet without ever breaking contact, a feat worthy of an instant replay had it been a sports event. Stepping awkwardly around the wreckage of the curtain, he stumbled towards Ashley's bed. Ashley cleverly solved the problem of walking together by hoisting herself up his body and wrapping her lithesome legs around his waist while simultaneously performing a similar feat with her tongue on his. Free of her obstructing limbs, Leon crossed the remaining space to her mattress and collapsed as gracefully as he could on top of her.

There was a short moment of frenzied fumbling as they sought better positions on the thin mattress. Words were obsolete; they were of a joint intent now, a purpose born of bottled need.

Unable to roll the towel off of her from his position, Leon resorted to efficiency and simply flipped her over, pulling the towel from her and flinging it off the bed before turning her back upright. The bold move elicited a gasp from Ashley as she was bared to his gaze.

Leon found himself stunned at the sight. She was soft and curvy in a pinup kind of way, drawing comparisons in his mind to the sex icons of the past rather than the stick thin models of the modern world. Her lack of body hair and obvious trimming confirmed his suspicions that she had been using his razor, but with her lying rather wonderfully naked beneath him he was feeling magnanimous.

Like a kid in a candy store, he didn't know where to start. After a short deliberation, he decided to take it from the top.

After so many days of speculation and educated guesses, he was happy to find the reality exceeded his expectations. She was beautiful, full and shapely with delicate pink rose buds of nipples surmounting her snowy skin. Her nipples hardened in anticipation under his hungry stare and he found his arousal ratcheting up to previously undiscovered levels. He was torn between the conflicting needs of holding them and tasting them. Unable to choose, he multitasked and did both, firmly palming her left breast and sucking as much of the other one as he could manage into his mouth.

Ashley lost whatever little eloquence she might have been holding in reserve up until that point. Her head fell back onto the bed and she moaned her approval, arching her back to provide him maximum access. Leon didn't need the encouragement. Using his hands to push her breasts together in a sumptuous double mound, he ran his tongue across both of her aching tips. Her body was like the best buffet in the world.

Ashley was thoroughly enjoying his continued administrations, but felt that perhaps he was stuck on the upper body work. There was a pleasant weight resting in her pelvis and a good amount of tingling and moisture working through more specific areas, and they were all demanding some form of attention. Shifting away from him, she withdrew her nipple from his mouth with a wet pop and reached around to undo his shirt drawstring. Recognizing her intentions, Leon hastened the process by quickly shedding his pants.

Freed now from any restrictive clothing, Ashley rolled over to rest on top of Leon. Their frantic pace was slowed for a minute as they both took a breather to enjoy the feeling of skin against skin. Thinking that even a quiet moment was best not wasted, Leon captured Ashley's mouth in his for a tender kiss.

It didn't last. Soon she was squirming against him, straddling him and pushing downward in a message that he received loud and clear. Gripping her hips tightly, he paused with himself poised to enter. He felt he owed it to her to make sure this was what she wanted – his own wants were most certainly not in question. Ashley, however, was apparently not in a patient frame of mind. At his hesitation she took matters into her own hands and promptly guided him into her.

"Oh _fuck_!" Leon uttered the first words spoken since their torrid kiss had sparked their joining. Had he the mental capacity to think through the haze of pleasure in which he was engulfed, he probably would have felt embarrassed by his inelegant outburst. As it was, he adhered to the theme of the situation and simply thrust into her again. For her part Ashley seemed content to moan wordlessly.

It didn't take them long to establish a rhythm. Leon found himself straining to maintain what seemed to him an agonizingly slow cadence. What he really wanted to do was flip over and fuck her senseless. But he was nothing if not conscious of her needs, so he kept at it and tried to think of anything except how good it felt to be inside hot, slick pussy of Ashley Graham.

The fact that he had conjoined the words 'hot', 'slick' and 'pussy' proved he probably wasn't doing a very good job of it. He failed a little more every passing second.

Ashley had stopped moaning and was now breathing heavily, a thin sheen of sweat covering her sleek form. She was close, grinding into him in search of that last relief. Urgency drove her as she teetered on the brink of release, and she started to increase the pace.

Leon panicked as he felt her begin to move faster. He was already at the limit of restraint, and any more friction could prove disastrous. Mentally crossing his fingers, he hoped she was close enough that he could go the distance, and moved one hand from her hips to thumb at her clitoris.

The touch of his hand against her clit was all the impetus she required. The jolt of pleasure sent her spinning over the edge and she spasmed, mouth gasping. Leon thought he had never seen anything more beautiful. In an instant all of the arguments for pornography as art gained new credibility.

She collapsed bonelessly on top of him, spent from their efforts. Leon wasn't long to follow. In the aftermath of her orgasm it wasn't even so much the rush of warm fluid or the way she had tightened around his cock as it was the dawning reality of the situation.

He was making love to Ashley Graham. Ashley-_fucking_-Graham! The Ashley he had protected, wanted, needed, fantasized about! _Fuck_!

Allowing himself full realization proved as potent as any physical contact – he came swiftly.

As their breathing slowed and sticky limbs came to rest, he had a feeling of 'what now?'. He wasn't sure what she would say. He wasn't sure he wanted her to say anything. Silence seemed safer after the enormity of their actions.

The decision was removed from his hands when she began to stir again, pushing herself off of him to lay by his side. Rolling over to face her, Leon tentatively wrapped his arms around her damp form and felt a large measure of relief when she reciprocated, pressing herself closer to drape one slender arm over his ribs. He met her eyes as they lay side by side on the same pillow. She didn't seem upset or regretful, which he took as a positive sign.

"Wow," she said, blinking. "Wow. Leon, what just happened?"

"I think we had sex."

She raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"And you were awesome. And I'm wondering when we can do it again."

She laughed, and it made him feel like laughing too. Raising herself on one elbow, she leaned over and kissed him deeply. She was smiling during the kiss, something he found delightful. Breaking off, she smoothed his hair away from his face.

"Give me half an hour," she said rather lasciviously, something he had never seen her be before. "I need a little rest after all that."

Leon grinned. "You've got fifteen minutes."


	11. This Beautiful Collision

The bus was too shaky for him to get any sleep, so instead he rested the side of his head against the window, letting the chill from the glass seep through his hair. It felt good in contrast to the unpleasant heat inside the vehicle; he knew it wasn't warm outside, but he didn't think the level of heating inside was necessary.

Still, his uncomfortable surroundings were preferable to his circumstances of the past few days. Upon his release from quarantine he had been shuttled back to Agency headquarters for a very extensive second debriefing. He had also played catch up with all the happenings since his temporary incarceration. He always hated mincing words over conference room tables with the suits, and had been quite happy when he was finally allowed to go home.

He might have tacked on the month quarantine to his mental list of time he had hated, but for a certain someone who had not only made it bearable, but often fun. Very fun. The epitome of fun, as it were.

He wasn't really all that enthused about being back in his apartment. He just wanted to see her again.

It would have to wait. She had left with her father, and short of going through the Agency he didn't really have any way to contact her. This was what created the small knot of anxiety in his stomach. She had promised she would get in touch with him once they were both out and back in D.C. but sometimes, mostly at night, he couldn't help but think that maybe she'd just decide it had all been a mistake, and she'd be better off putting him behind her.

_Yes_, he thought, looking at himself in the window reflection, _I am that insecure_.

Washington D.C. rolled past his view in a grimy, monochromatic pastel. It could be a nice looking city, usually in the summer, but on this soggy fall evening the color was leeched from everything by the low cloud cover and it blended together into a concrete diorama, a grey freeze frame. It made him want to go back to sleep.

He reached into his jacket and fiddled with the earphones that hung out of an inside pocket. He had bought a little MP3 player at a Wal-Mart during one of the break periods during his debriefing, figuring he might use it on the trip back to D.C. Three hours of flight time and a half hour spent on the bus later and he had yet to listen to anything.

There was something to be said for silence.

The bus ground noisily into what he recognized as his neighborhood, a collection of apartment buildings that looked like what could only be described as upscale tenements. Their blocky, uniform construction was nothing if not practical, discarding any aesthetically pleasing structural qualities for simple efficient design.

The bus stop was only a couple blocks from his building. He walked the way there in silent thought, the cold air burning the back of his throat.

The Agency always took care of his rent during his extended absences, as well as providing regular checks of the apartment on the off chance someone decided to seek revenge in one way or the other. Now that he was home again his safety was up to him, which was fine. The thought of other Agents inspecting his stuff didn't appeal to him.

Upon inserting his key and opening the door, he immediately walked over to the thermostat and adjusted the heat. The air inside the apartment had grown cold and stale, and he was tempted to open a window, though he knew it would solve one of those problems and exacerbate the other.

Throwing his jacket over a beat up old easy chair in one corner, he surveyed his domain with a critical eye. Still a mess, just the way he had left it. Now that he was no longer wallowing in self-pity, he'd have to clean up. A joyless task.

Sighing heavily, he began sorting things out.

Beer bottles… well, he'd just pile those in the sink for now. Porn mags – did he still need them? Hopefully not, but he'd stash them in his closet somewhere as a contingency plan if his worst fears were realized. His sheets needed to be washed, badly. He ripped them off the bed and piled them by the door.

Soon he was immersed in the menial tasks. Bottles were removed, various items were put back into their rightful places, and the laundry pile near the door grew ever larger.

It took awhile, but eventually he was able to see his floor again by the time night had fallen. Standing up and stretching, he looked at the monstrous pile of laundry by the door with distaste. Hauling it all downstairs to the communal laundry room wasn't his idea of a good time. In fact, he could think of few things he'd rather do less.

"Fuck it," he muttered, his voice hoarse from a day of disuse. Stripping down to his underwear and tossing those clothes on top of the pile, he decided it could wait until tomorrow. Remembering that he didn't have any sheets, he dug a blanket out of his closet and collapsed on the bed. It was a little scratchy and the pillow was definitely lacking a certain something in the absence of a pillowcase, but it would do for one night.

It didn't take him long to fall asleep.

* * *

He awoke to a knock at his door.

Under different circumstances he might have found himself annoyed, but he was too pleasantly surprised at his comfortable surroundings to be angry.

Half blind with sleep, he groped on the floor until he found a shirt and pulled it over his head, stumbling his way over to the door. Prudence made him reach for the nightstand and grab his sidearm, just in case.

The view through the peephole was blurry, though whether it was because of his eyes or a lack of cleaning he wasn't sure, and he couldn't quite make out who it was. Sighing, he cracked open the door and peered cautiously at the man standing there.

"..Yes?"

The man was a spook, complete with a dark suit, mirrored sunglasses and bad attitude. "Leon Kennedy?"

Leon yawned, fervently hoping he wasn't needed back at the Agency again. "That's me."

"Your presence has been requested at the White House, Mr. Kennedy. I've been sent to take you there."

Leon suffered a brief moment of panic as he considered possibility of being the first person to ever be deported for screwing the President's daughter. At the very least, he'd be able to put his cleaning on hold. "I'll need to get dressed."

"Just meet me out front when you're ready, Mr. Kennedy. We have a car for you."

_And some cement shoes_, Leon thought glumly as he closed the door.

The trip passed by in a comfortable silence. Leon didn't want to talk, and his driver didn't want to listen. The radio was turned down low and occasionally the driver tapped his fingers with the tune, but that was the extent of the noise barring the hum of the vehicle. Leon rested his head against the cold window in a position of déjà vu. He didn't know what lay in store for him, and he was still too tired to really think about it.

The White House was accessible through an underground garage, complete with some of the tightest security Leon had seen outside of an extended operation. He made a mental note not to leave anything lying around, knowing it would bring the whole place down on him.

He had taken a tour of the house once, when he had just moved to D.C. It was a little different off the velvet rope paths, though just as tidy and almost repressively opulent. Out of the corner of his eye mahogany desks, canopy beds and plush carpet flitted in and out of view through doorways as his escort shuttled him towards some unknown destination. The hallways felt heavy with history, and he couldn't help but wonder who else had walked the same path as he.

At least one of those persons of import was identified when Ashley came bursting out of a door to fling herself onto him. He had a split second to decide how to catch her, his training proving its usefulness again as he deftly grabbed her hips and shifted her trajectory to avoid a worse impact.

Unfortunately he hadn't compensated for the presence of the two secret servicemen who had accompanied him. In the confines of the hall they had stepped to the sides to allow room for Ashley's kinetic concept of a reunion, and Leon's foot caught on the shoe of the man to his right.

As he fell towards what was sure to be a painful terminus for his descent, he sincerely hoped she was wearing more than she had been the last time this had happened.

* * *

Ashley had dismissed the Secret Servicemen and swept him off to her room in bustle of chatter, talking about seemingly anything and everything that had happened since he had last seen her. He followed her in a bit of a daze, having forgotten what an assault on his senses she was. He tried to listen to what she was saying, but the soft skin of her hand that he held, her heavenly scent, and the mesmerizing motions of her lips left little brainpower available for such an involved task.

"-Don't you think?"

Realizing she was asking him something, he desperately cast about for a noncommittal answer. "Uh, I don't know."

She frowned. "You don't think it's great to be back home?"

He almost winced. "Ah, no, I'm really glad to be back here. Finally got some sleep."

"You weren't listening to me at all were you," she accused him.

Taking a chance, he decided honesty was the best policy. "Sorry. You're a little distracting."

Her eyes softened immediately. She moved her grip upwards, wrapping herself around his arm. "Well, why don't we talk about that," she said softly.

Leon swallowed hard, looking around in case any Secret Servicemen still hovered nearby. "Talk about what?"

Ashley sighed, releasing his arm and dragging him forward by the hand again. She seemed to be in a hurry and he wasn't all that sure he was ready to meet the President of the United States, whose daughter he happened to be fucking. No, not fucking. That was too crude and didn't come even close to what he felt existed between them. They had made love.

He doubted the President would be comforted by the distinction.

He was about to ask her where they were going when she stopped at a pair of solid-looking double doors. Twisting the handles to open them, she practically pushed him into the room beyond and then followed suit, closing and locking them behind her.

Leon paused to take stock of the place. The first thing that stood out was the alarming amount of pale pink decorating the room. From the wallpaper to the bedspread, the soft color seemed to be everywhere. There was some white and blue scattered here and there, but they were swallowed by the overwhelming pinkness.

The middle of the room was dominated by what seemed to him to be a huge bed, complete with a superfluous canopy. He reasoned it probably appeared so large just in comparison to his, though he wouldn't wonder if it wasn't big by any standard. The walls were lined with bookshelves, dressers, night tables and the other accoutrements of bedrooms. There was a walk-in closet he could see to his right and to his left was another door, which he figured must lead to a bathroom.

His scrutiny of his surroundings was rudely interrupted when Ashley spun him around to face her and promptly threw herself into his arms for the second time.

Leon stumbled backwards towards the bed, bracing himself. When his knees hit the edge he managed to lean forward enough that his momentum was halted, and instead of ending up on his back he came to rest in a sitting position. Ashley had obviously not expected that, so when he came to his abrupt halt her forehead slammed painfully into his chin.

"Ow! Leon!" she complained.

"You jumped on me!" Leon said, defending himself. "Maybe if you'd give me a little advance warning now and then-"

Ashley ignored him, sitting up in his lap and pointing imperiously over his shoulder at the bed. "Lay us down."

He frowned suspiciously. "Why?"

"Leon, I have some seriously pent up frustrations right now, so _please _just lay down!" She glared at him seriously.

He gave in and scooted them backwards until he was sitting in the middle, then lay backwards to rest his head on one of the pillows. He had to admit it was a highly pleasant situation to have her lying on top of him, but he was still somewhat confused as to why they hadn't gone to meet her parents yet.

"Ashley, not that I'm complaining about this, but I thought your father wanted to see me-"

She chose that moment to kiss him – hard. All brain functions concerning the President or anything otherwise ceased operation to concentrate all working neurons on the sensation.

When they broke for air, Ashley brushed her hair aside and shrugged sheepishly. "We're going to have dinner with my parents, they wanted to meet you."

"Then why are we-"

"They don't know you're here yet. I asked the Service to go get you early," she said breathlessly, eyeing him with a mix of impatience and hunger.

"I didn't know you could do that."

"I can."

Another furious kiss followed the exchange. Emerging gasping and not a little drunk on the feelings the kiss stirred in him, Leon gripped her more firmly around the waist and moved upward to sit against the headboard.

"Ashley," he broke off as she made another lunge for his lips, deflecting her with his cheek. "Ashley-"

"What, Leon?! Is the bed comfortable enough? Do you need more pillows? What is your problem?" she exploded.

Leon shrank back. He opened his mouth but couldn't think of a response to defuse her.

"Here I am, sitting on top of you and we're making out and you keep hitting the pause button! Do I need to get naked first, or was it the hospital gown you found so attractive? Is this a sudden onset of Bob Dole's disease? Seriously, Leon, what is your problem?"

Now that, Leon felt, was going too far. Bob Dole had no place in this bedroom. "It's just a little sudden," he tried to explain.

"Sudden? _Sudden?!_" she nearly screeched, clearly driven beyond the limits of aggravation by what she saw as inexplicably reluctant behavior. "The _first_ time was sudden, Leon. Do you not remember or something? For God's sake, this should be routine by now! Don't tell me you've forgotten how to have sex. Do I need to walk you through it?"

"There's no need to be insulting."

"Then I ask you again, Leon, what is the problem?" Her tone had calmed and her eyes had taken a slightly worried cast as if something had occurred to her. "You're… You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

"What? God, no," he hastened to reassure her. "I thought you might be. That's why I'm acting like this, I thought I was summoned to meet the President, and then I ended up in here and I don't really know what's going on... And to be honest, I don't really want to get caught by your parents in here with you. I want you, but I sort of need my job to keep feeding myself."

Ashley blew out a sigh of relief. "Okay, good, so we're still in love then, right?"

"Right," Leon affirmed, knowing it was the first time either of them had ever said 'love' but letting the moment pass.

There was a pleasant warmth against his neck as Ashley rested her head there, leaning into him. "Why would you think I'd be having second thoughts?" she asked quietly.

Leon struggled to properly phrase his feelings. "Well, it was the situation. You know, the whole life saving thing. And the danger. Kind of a potent combination, right? I think it meant something to both of us, in Spain. But the quarantine… We were shoved into tight quarters together and I thought maybe after you got out back into the world you'd see you didn't need me any more. Two people, in that sort of close confinement, that's bound to spark something. I don't know. I just thought after we got out you'd leave that behind." He looked down at her and started to continue when he noticed with some alarm that her eyes were narrowing dangerously again.

She sat back up and glared at him. "Is that what you think of me, Leon? That I was just looking for an easy lay? 'Gee, here I am in quarantine and hey, look! There's a penis handy, I think I'll sit on it!'" she mouthed sarcastically, assuming a vapid expression. "Why don't you send me a bill, Leon? I don't take charge cards."

"Alright, I get it." Leon tried to backpedal from his mistake. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"I don't just jump into bed with the first convenient guy, Leon. I was under the impression that what happened in quarantine meant something."

"It did. I said I was sorry, let's just drop it, okay. Obviously I was wrong."

"_Very_ wrong," she affirmed, but lay her head back down on his shoulder.

There was silence then, until Leon spoke his mind. "So where do we go from here?"

"I don't know." Ashley straightened back up and shrugged with a cute flip of her hair. "But I know where to start..."

Another series of heavy kisses followed. Ashley moaned into his mouth and ground into him rather inappropriately, and Leon felt the situation was becoming highly promising. He gradually shifted downwards until they were pleasantly horizontal, fully intent on spending the next several minutes in perpetual lip lock.

Their well laid plans came to a premature halt when there was a knock at the door.

Ashley jerked herself upright, an apprehensive expression on her face. "Yeah?" She called at the doors, trying to calm her breathing enough to sound normal.

"Ashley, what are you doing?" It was a man's voice, deep and resonant.

"My father," she whispered at Leon before turning her head back towards the door. "Reading. Why?"

"Did you get a hold of Agent Kennedy?"

"No," she lied without any apparent trace of guilt. "Why?"

"Your mother called his apartment and he wasn't there."

"I'll call his cellphone, Dad."

"Okay, but do it soon so he can make it in time for dinner."

"I will." She looked down at Leon. "Do you have a cellphone?"

"In my other pants."

The sound of receding footsteps in the hallway told them her father had left and Ashley sighed in relief. "Now, where were we?" she murmured.

She leaned forward to pick up where she had left off and froze in mid action when another knock sounded at the door. Leon could almost hear her teeth grinding in frustration.

"Yes?" She yelled at the double doors, a slight edge to her voice.

It was a woman's voice this time. "Ashley, did you ever call Mr. Kennedy?"

Ashley briefly closed her eyes. "No, Mom."

"Well I called and he wasn't there, I hope-"

"I know Mom, Dad told me. I'll call his cell."

"Alright, but do it soon so he can make it in time for-"

"-Dinner, yes, I'm aware," Ashley grated.

"There's no need to get snappy, young lady. I want you to take a shower and put on something nice before dinner."

"Mom, Leon's seen me covered with blood," Ashley said. She rolled her eyes even though the intended recipient of the action was on the other side of a door. "I really don't think he'll care if we go casual."

"He might not, but I do. Dinner's at six, be ready then."

"I will, Mom."

Again the footsteps retreated out of hearing range. Ashley sighed, reluctantly rolling off of Leon. "I guess we better take a shower."

"Right, I'll need to find a suit or – we?"

Ashley was already stripping off her clothes before his startled gaze. "My shower is quite a bit bigger than the one in quarantine. Besides, you don't want to waste water do you? It's more efficient this way."

"I sort of doubt that since I imagine the shower will take twice as long."

"Mmm, maybe even more." She sounded quite delighted at the prospect. With two quick motions she dispensed with what was left of her clothing and stood birth naked for Leon's perusal. She walked towards the bathroom door with a stride that would have been stately had it not involved so much ass wiggling. Leon took in the view for a moment before quickly following suit. Pausing, he kicked his clothes underneath her bed. A good Agent prepared for all eventualities.


	12. Occasions to Be There

It was indeed a nice shower, Leon noted. It put the bare bones tile box back at his apartment to shame, certainly. Fronted by two full frosted glass sliding doors, the walls and floor were covered with some sort of stone textured material that Leon guessed to be formica. The showerhead was of the detachable kind, and had a luxurious shower massager next to it. Hell, there was even a seat lining the wall opposite the head.

Ashley noticed him taking stock of the shower and smiled impishly. "Nice, huh? I was so glad to be back here after quarantine."

She stepped inside and turned the water on full blast, the sudden roar drowning out Leon's answer. Watching the warm rivulets begin to slide over her shoulders, following the logical rules of physics over the swell of her bottom and running down her inner thighs, Leon decided there would be plenty of time to talk later.

Leon stepped over the high tub-like rim of the shower and shut the door behind him, the air immediately becoming steamy as the heat filled the space. He was in the back and the shower hadn't yet become fully heated by the spray. Ashley stood in the water, still coyly pretending to wash while waiting for him to do something. Well. If it was something she wanted, he could think of several things to do.

She gave a mock squeal when he wrapped his arms around her from behind, a sound that was more about pleasure than any violated sense of modesty. Leon kissed the side of her neck while taking full advantage of his position to cup her breasts in both hands, rolling the nipples between his fingers. It was kind of like handling a water balloon, he thought, except water balloons didn't give him a serious erection.

On the subject of erections, Ashley was pressing her ass firmly back into his. He appreciated the sentiment, but wasn't ready to try going in the backdoor yet. He told her so, and she swiveled her head to stare up at him with an expression somewhere between shock and laughter.

"Leon!"

"It's okay," he mumbled into her ear. He moved her away for a moment and turned her around to face him, lifting her slightly. Taking the cue, Ashley wrapped her legs around his waist and elevated herself so their heads were level. "I sort of like the front door myself."

Ashley gasped as he pressed her against the shower wall, her skin arching back from the cold surface. Laughter faded as sheer lust took over and her eyes locked onto his. Reaching down Leon grasped his member and rubbed the head over her vagina, parting the lips. "Knock knock," he quipped.

That earned him a snort. "Leon, just shut up and fuck me."

"Right."

Leon shifted slightly and started to enter her. Ashley's mouth opened and a soft moan emitted as the first inch of him slid home-

"Ashley?"

Startled, Leon jerked out of her as Ashley's head spun towards the door and she said something very unladylike. Pushing him away and slipping down from her perch, she went to the shower door and slid it open a crack, leaving a bewildered Leon standing by himself.

Ashley stood at the door for several moments, listening intently over the sound of the running water. Leon started to say something but she made a quick gesture over her shoulder, the meaning of which was obvious. Leon kept quiet, straining his ears though not fully understanding what was going on.

"Ashley?"

It sounded like Ashley's mother, but even more worryingly her voice seemed to be coming from the bedroom and not the hallway.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when there was a knock on the door.

"Ashley?"

Ashley briefly closed her eyes in a moment of massive frustration before answering. "Yeah, Mom?"

"I've laid out a nice dress you for on your bed, it's the one you wore to the inaugural. Your shoes are on the floor and don't forget to brush your hair."

"I won't, Mom."

"Why don't you put in that nice gold barrette Grandma gave you, too?"

"Okay, I will."

"Oh, and have you seen my good hairspray? I can't find it and I wondered if you had borrowed it again without asking."

Ashley froze.

"Ashley?"

"Yeah, it's under my sink."

"Oh, good-"

The doorknob began to turn.

Ashley gave Leon a look of pure unadulterated panic. Thinking fast, Leon threw himself down to the floor, rolling onto his back and scooting over until he was flush with the high rim of the shower. Ashley closed the shower door completely and moved to stand beneath the spray, normalizing appearances.

With apprehension Ashley watched the blurry shadow of her mother move through the door and towards the sink counter. "Which cabinet is it hon?"

"The one on the far right," she answered, hoping she didn't sound as breathless as she felt.

Leon, for his part, was simply glad the water had been running long enough for the shower sides to lose their chill. Also on the plus side, his position afforded him a new angle on Ashley's naked body, looking up instead of down at her. He gave it some consideration and concluded that she was just as hot from the bottom up as from the top down.

There was a rattle as Ashley's mother withdrew the can. "I hope you didn't use too much. I don't know how many times I've told you that you don't need to lay it on as much as you do."

"I'm sure it's fine."

Her mother went back out into the bedroom, pausing while closing the door to ask, "Did you ever call Agent Kennedy? He still isn't home. Your father can call his superiors if you can't get a hold of him."

"No, I talked to him, he'll be here."

"Oh good, I'll tell your father. Should I call the service to go get him?"

"No, he's got his own ride. He's probably already on his way over. Although I think I forgot to tell him not to dress casual," Ashley cleverly supplied.

"That's alright, it's really more a family dinner as it is. I don't think your father will be wearing a suit either."

"Then why the hell do I have to wear a dress?" Ashley exclaimed.

"Ashley Graham!"

"Oh, grow up, Mom. People say it all the time."

"Not in this house they don't," her mother replied firmly. "I think you've spent too much time around the military lately, and I don't want to hear that again."

Ashley sighed. "Fine. But I still don't see why I have to wear a dress."

"Because we're having a guest and it's common courtesy, that's why."

"Mom! Leon is a_soldier_. He doesn't care," Ashley huffed in exasperation. Leon felt slightly offended at his presumed lack of fine taste.

"Ashley, I'm not going to argue with you over this."

"So I can wear whatever then?"

"Fine," her mother said shortly. "If you want to dress down for the man who saved your life, I'm not going to fight about it."

"You can't guilt me into this!" Ashley yelled but her mother had already closed the door. She looked down at Leon's head resting by her feet. "You don't care, right?"

Leon grinned. "Personally I think you look your best right now."

Ashley playfully put one foot on his face, causing him to grumble in protest and push her leg aside. "Maybe, but I don't think it's really in fashion at the moment."

Rising back to his feet, Leon ran his eyes over her form. Despite their relative familiarity, she still fidgeted a little under the scrutiny. "Are you kidding? This has never gone out of style."

"My mother might disagree."

"Did she tell you not to get into showers with guys like me?" Leon asked, moving closer.

"Actually I don't think she ever told me not to get into showers with guys period, but it was probably implied," Ashley laughed.

"I was never all that great at following the rules," Leon replied, his mouth now just inches from her own.

The kiss was slow at first but gradually increased in tempo until it was as steamy as the atmosphere. Leon broke it first, nuzzling his face into her hair as she breathed hard against his collarbone. "How much time do we have?"

Ashley sighed, raised her face to look at him. "Probably not enough…"

Leon winced at the thought of suppressing his current level of arousal, something he knew would prove to be agonizing.

"…For anything but a quickie."

That brightened him up. "I see."

Ashley placed her hands on her hips in a cute move that was made all the more appealing by her nakedness. "So are you just going to stand there or what?"

"I was debating the proper course of action," Leon said seriously, a grin tugging at his lips.

"Well debate some other time, we gotta hurry."

Without further ado Leon pressed her firmly against the shower wall and picked up where they had left off. There wasn't much to it, really – in a matter of a few minutes she was writhing against the tile wall and he gritted his teeth in the agonizing ecstasy of trying to control himself. He needn't have bothered, she came quickly and he followed almost immediately after.

In the panting aftermath of their joining Leon wondered if they had set some sort of record for quickest copulation. Obviously this was the result of their separation, his desire intensified to unbearable levels in the absence of her. He would have to work on that.

Ashley made a small sound of discontent as his now softening member slipped out of her, bringing his attention back. He smiled and shrugged as best he could while holding her. "It's not dead, just sleeping."

"Good to hear," she giggled, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I expect it to be fully rested after dinner."

That brought Leon up short. He didn't want to be ungrateful but he wasn't exactly looking forward to spending the evening with Ashley's mother and father. He hadn't ever actually been in this situation before, but basic social knowledge combined with a little common sense led him to the belief that the average parent wouldn't be all that accommodating when it came to the man who was sleeping with their daughter.

With any luck, it wouldn't be very obvious.

* * *

He never had been all that lucky.

The two of them had spent no more than a minute and a half in the company of her parents and already he was certain it must be painfully obvious. Perhaps he was simply being paranoid.

His paranoia seemed more justified when President Graham gave him a searching look in the middle of the bland conversation they were sharing. He knew he was standing a little too close to Ashley, but couldn't think of any way to move without his actions being transparent.

"We really can't thank you enough," Ashley's mother said again. She had been practically inarticulate with gratitude since Ashley had brought him to the dining room. The President was more reserved but still obviously grateful. It was more embarrassing than anything else.

"It's my job, but I was happy to do it," Leon replied, rewording the same response he had given what felt like a hundred times. "We were very lucky."

Ashley butted in with a sound of derision. "Luck? Yeah right Leon, it was all you." He shot her a scathing covert glare as she smiled impishly, plainly manipulating her mother into gushing over Leon again. She wasn't disappointed.

As Ashley's mother chattered on, the President fell in step beside Leon on their way over to the table. "I trust you've been kept informed on the situation in Spain, Agent Kennedy?"

Leon nodded, trying to keep his face from betraying his inner fears. "Yes sir, my superior briefed me when I left quarantine."

"Things have progressed somewhat since then. With the cooperation of the Spanish government we've contained the outbreak to the Salazar estates." He met Leon's eyes with a grave look. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you, but some of things we've recovered have been disturbing. There's going to be a summit meeting in Madrid concerning the cleanup. You can expect to be asked to attend."

"And me too, right Dad?" Ashley interrupted, obviously listening in.

Her father's expression turned to one of amused tolerance. "Yes, and you too." He spoke to Leon with a conspiratorial tone of voice for Ashley's benefit. "Ever since she was returned she's been obsessed with doing everything like you. I wouldn't wonder if she's harboring a secret desire to become an Agent herself," he laughed.

Leon's laughter was a little more strained, but he did his best to play along. Better that the President believed those reasons. Ashley was harboring a secret desire, alright, but it involved the Agency only by proxy.

"Dad!"

"Oh, I think you'd make a fine Agent, honey," the President chuckled.

Ashley gave Leon a faux wide-eyed look of excitement. "Do you really think I could, Leon?"

Leon affected an uncaring stance. "Eh, maybe. You'd have to get in shape first."

Her mouth dropped open. "I can't believe you! And after all those times you saw me climb stuff. I am shocked."

"You'll get over it."

They seated themselves, Ashley immediately grabbing the chair next to Leon with her father and mother sitting across from them. It was a very nice dining room, with hardwood floors and thick drapes. A fireplace crackled merrily from its place set in one of the walls, and windows and portraits adorned most of the remaining space.

Dinner came shortly after, served on trays that might have been real silver. He wondered what it must have been like to move into the White House and become used to such treatment. Then again, he supposed they had most likely been rich before anyway. He knew there was no way he could ever get used to it. He was a highly independent person, and preferred to do things himself. Although he probably wouldn't mind if someone did his laundry for him, especially with the pile still waiting for him at home.

Fortunately for him the food wasn't so fancy that he couldn't recognize it. It was standard Italian fare, complete with various alfredo dishes and breadsticks. Leon piled his plate and dug in with relish. After his month long quarantine, everything tasted fantastic.

"So, Leon," the President said, beginning the dinner small talk by addressing Leon with a more familiar air. "I hope everything went smoothly during your debrief?"

Work. Here was a topic Leon was comfortable with. "Yes sir, everything was fine."

"Good, I told Jonathan not to give you any trouble over all the property damage. What's done is done, and as far as I'm concerned it was more of a war than anything else." The President laughed briefly. "Though I wouldn't phrase it that way to Congress."

"Yes sir. I imagine Spain would also have a problem with that particular term."

"They would indeed. That reminds me," President Graham continued, swallowing another forkful. "If you get contacted by the DoD, let me know. They were out of the loop on this one and are scrambling to catch up, been a nuisance, really. Bugging the Foreigns office, CIA, everyone else who knows anything." He laughed shortly again. "Even tried to pry something out of the boys from Delta who assisted in the first entry into the estates, as if that wasn't illegal. I told them to stay away from you, but they want their fingers in this pie real bad. Don't let them put any pressure on you. Just give me a call and I'll put the boot down."

Leon frowned. "Why would the DoD be so interested in what happened?" He already knew the answer, but wanted to make sure there wasn't more to it than his assumptions.

The President held up a finger, taking a long drink from his glass. Setting it down, he shook his head. "The DoD are always dying to get their hands on anything dangerous. This 'Plaga' you ran into represents a major threat, so naturally they want some for R&D."

That made Leon's blood run cold. He knew it was inevitable, but he still didn't like it. "With all due respect, sir, I don't think that's a very good idea."

"Neither do I. That's why they've been denied, and are now trying go around behind my back. Official policy is we don't do bioweapons anymore. Unofficially, you and I both know we could whip something up in a hurry if we had to." He sighed. "Eventually someone is going to have to work on this stuff so we can come up with some way to combat it. Frankly, the capabilities of these parasites scare us. Some people are even talking of vaccine research, immunizing the country through the school system. All that's still in the future, of course."

"I understand. A vaccine would be ideal if it's possible."

"That's what I thought. But since right now we don't know the first thing about the Plaga, it's still a pipe dream. There are other options. In your report you described the machine that removed the parasite from you through some form of irradiation. We've got a detachment of navy divers combing the lake right now to see if we can turn something up."

Leon opened his mouth to reply but instead let out a grunt as he caught an elbow in his ribs. Ashley was looking very bored.

"Uh, thank you for the invitation." Leon switched the topic of conversation while rubbing his ribs. "The food is really great," he concluded lamely.

"I think Leon should get a promotion. Don't you think he should get a promotion, Dad?" Ashley said out of nowhere, derailing the small talk with the completely random observation.

Her parents must have been accustomed to this, because neither of them batted an eye. "Well, that's up to the board," the President replied calmly, "but I've certainly put in a good word for him."

"And a medal. What medal do you want, Leon?"

Leon mentally groped for a handle on this bizarre turn of events. "Uh..."

"How about the Medal of Honor? Or do you have to be dead to get that one?"

"I don't really..."

"Aren't you going to have a ceremony for him, Dad?"

"We can't do that, I'm afraid." President Graham still seemed unperturbed, as if Ashley's behavior was commonplace. "Leon's involvement with the Agency essentially makes him a state secret."

"Excuse me, I need to use the restroom," Leon desperately interjected. "Where can I find one?"

"I'll show you," Ashley helpfully chirped. "It's down this hall."

The President and First Lady did seem somewhat startled by their sudden departure, but Ashley whisked Leon off down a long hallway. As soon as they rounded a corner, Leon turned on her.

"Ashley, what the hell are you doing?"

"Just putting in a good word for you," she said in a sing-song voice, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"Stop that."

"Relax, Leon." Ashley said in her normal tone. "I'm just messing with my Dad. He knows I'm joking, but what I said will stick in his head anyway. Don't be surprised if you get a medal."

"I don't want a medal."

"Well too bad, you're getting one. Besides, don't you know that chicks dig medals?" Ashley ran a hand down one of his arms. "I like a big, strong man with medals."

Leon shrugged. "Oh well, it was fun while it lasted."

"Hey!" she exclaimed.

"Alright, how about scars? I have scars, those are impressive."

"I've seen them," she sniffed. "They aren't _that_ big."

He grinned. "I've got something bigger to make up for it."

"That's what _you_ think. I notice you didn't ask for my opinion."

"Allow me these little conceits." He looked around. "Is there actually a bathroom around here, because I really do have to go."

* * *

As the last leftovers were carried away from the table, Leon leaned back in his seat. With the amount of food he had consumed he felt that walking was a dubious prospect at best, and had no intention of rising to his feet until it was necessary.

Ashley, it seemed, had other plans. She kicked him under the table to gain his attention, and then looked suggestively at the door. Leon mentally groaned.

"Hey, Mom," Ashley said brightly, putting on an innocent expression. "Me and Leon are leaving. I'll probably be back late."

Despite her best attempt to slip by without notice, her mother still brought her up short as she began to get up from her chair. "Leaving? Where are you going?"

"To Leon's house." Ashley began moving towards the exit, trying to break free of the conversation.

"Ashley Graham!"

She stopped, sighing. "What, Mom?"

"Why do you think you're going to Leon's house tonight?"

"Because he's seen my house now, so I'm going to see his," Ashley said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It wouldn't be very fair otherwise."

"And have you talked with him about this?"

"Of course! Now we gotta go, okay."

"No, not okay." Her mother's voice was severe. "I'd like to know why you think you can do this."

"Mom! I'm a grown woman, I think I can go where I want. Besides, Leon can handle it if there's any trouble."

Leon was determined to stay out of the conversation by any and all means necessary.

Her mother sighed. "Alright, Ashley. But you will be taking your guards with you."

"Alright, I'll get them. C'mon, Leon."

Leon stood with discomfort, thanked the President and his wife, and followed Ashley as quickly as his bloated condition allowed.

She headed directly for the parking garage, and he realized she had no intention of getting her Secret Service agents. Stopping by a bright yellow Volkswagon Beetle that stood out amongst the rows of uniform black sedans, she turned to him. "You have your identification stuff, right Leon?"

He frowned. "You mean my government ID?"

"Yeah, that one."

"We have to carry it at all times."

"Okay, good. You'll need it to get us out of here."

Ashley unlocked the car and slid into the passenger seat. Wondering what sort of half baked plan she had worked up, Leon reluctantly slid into the driver's side.

"Here," she said, handing him the keys. "This is my car so they'll know it's me. I'd rather use one of the other ones so they don't know, but I can't. Just wave your badge or whatever around when they ask."

"I don't know if I'd have clearance here."

"You're in that big shot Agency or whatever, you're top secret and stuff!" she said, obviously exasperated. "It'll work."

To his surprise, it did. Upon scanning the card identifying him as a CB1 level government agent, he was allowed to pass without question. Once they had exited the tightly controlled area and were making their way down normal city streets, Ashley grabbed the ID from him and studied it. "Wow, this thing is really useful. What does CB1 mean?"

"That's one of those things I can't tell you."

"Please?" she pouted.

He laughed. "I'm afraid I can't divulge state information that would lose me my job for a 'please'."

"You're so mean." She turned her attention to the other parts of the ID. "How come it doesn't have a photograph? Or even your name."

"So if I lost the card somehow there would be no way to trace it to me. Only government issue card readers can correctly identify the badge as being mine."

"Why don't I have one of these?"

"Because I'm a secret agent and you're the President's daughter. My job requires years of training and a lifetime of silence, yours requires showing up at important events in a nice dress."

"Hey! I'll have you know that I am a college student who just happens to be the President's daughter," she said indignantly.

"My mistake," he said, smiling. "What's your major?"

"Well, I wanted to be a doctor," she replied, shuffling her feet on the car mat. "But lately I don't really know anymore. A lot of things changed after Spain. I guess that sounds stupid."

"No, actually. I know what you mean." A lot of things had changed for Leon after Raccoon City, including the course of his life.

A comfortable silence descended over the interior of the car as they were both lost in their thoughts.


	13. Sonambulo

It was chilly, despite the strong arms that surrounded her.

_tevoyacortarenpedazos!_

Ashley shivered. Still half asleep, she tugged feebly at the covers, pulling them up to her chin. Leon didn't stir.

_puedoscorrer,peronopuedesesconderte!_

A cold sweat covered her. Was that the sound of fire?

_Te voy a matar!_

The memories came unbidden.

_No estas sonado?_

The fear was ever familiar.

_Matalo!_

The nightmares pulled her down.

_**Morir es vivir.**_


	14. Scenes from a Waking V

**Her mind spun in free fall.**

_Ashley dreamed a multitude of memories and memorandums let's set a race on the beat dow nroadwhat_

_willyouworshipwhentheymeltthegoldifyoucanfindthetimethenyoumightmovemecountingallthewrappersand_

_throwingtheminthebinhereinthecarwe'restuckandslowwithredlightscaughtonthedashboardalwaystheradioisturneduploud_

_whoneedstotalk,changethestationjumptheditchandhitanotherdrivebyandnowI'mcaughtbetweenthebeltandtheseatthisnever_

_wasanopenrunoutstreetifyoucanfindtheliesthenyoumighttrustmereadbetweenthelines,checkthecabinetsweloadtheglovecompartment_

_likeawasheranddryerIwashmyhands,ItakeastepbackbutIlovethatspeedysensationripitoutandtossthoseblownoutshoeswecouldbefake_

_butthat'sforyoutochooseifyoucanseethesignsthenyoumightfindmecountingallmychangeandspittinginthewindalltherage,it'sinthenews_

_checkthestands,IfoundanotetheredoyourememberwhatwecamehereforIfoldthedollarsbutthenlessismoreifyoucanfindthetimethen_

_youmightmovemeifyoucanfindthetimethenyoumightfallasleepintheglowoftheheadlightscloseyoureyestothewindshieldstaccatobreaking_

_overwristsandheadsmangledmetalinfullswingthecarcrashissingingmehomesweetnotesofshatteredclimaxdownthewindowshardstothe_

_gutterfendersscrapeliketeethonwireopenwidehoodtrunkconflagration,spitinthemirrorrainhidesyourtearswithgasolinerainbowswaiting_

_forafireforasparkoffsomethingotherhugtheroadwithrubberslickgripthenlaymedowngentleinsteelenfolding,coldandrawwithpowertosparein_

_yourburningbellyheatmeupordownwhichevercomesfirstIcan'tbeparticularwithwreckagetobackmetostackmeuprubbleandasphaltisrubbing_

_intolacerationstheglassundermyskinburnslikepinpricksbutI'llsurvivetowalkfreeyetI'llclawmywayouttoagrayhomecomingyoustillhavemiles_

_toskidoverweighstationsandweightyroadfullofpeoplewithoutdestinationspointhemintherightdirectionbacktomeandthebentframeprisonwithfires_

_tolightthewayandbloodonthebumperthey'llknowitwhentheyseeitandhowcouldtheynot_

**It landed in a frozen moment. How easily it all came back.**

**That old familiar feeling.**

* * *

She could barely breathe inside the cabinet, the air musty and choked with dust. But the terrifying sounds of struggle coming from below made her cower beneath the moth eaten coats and jackets, too afraid to crack open the door.

Even with the cabinet to muffle the noise, the cacophony was deafening. Not a moment passed without the house resounding with gunfire and screams. Outside the walls seethed a raging mass humanity, howling for blood. She flinched as a particularly loud shot echoed up the staircase. Something heavy hit the wooden stairs and rolled downwards. A window shattered.

Luis was yelling something, his words incomprehensible through the firefight. Ashley couldn't tell if Leon responded. There was the banging of heavy footsteps charging up the stairway. The cabinet doors clapped violently against their frames as something heavy was dropped against them with a sound that was nearly deafening in the small space. Ashley put her palms to her ears and came close to screaming.

A gun was going off on the second floor now, just outside of the cabinet, but she wasn't experienced enough to distinguish whose it was. Other sounds were leaking through her wooden surroundings: the clatter of booted feet up ladder rungs and the growling of madmen. With a shudder, she realized they were scaling the house, and now her protectors would be forced to defend both floors. The gunfire from downstairs continued unabated, so at least she knew neither of them had yet been killed.

A shout came from close by. "Leon! Get up here!"

She could hear Leon let off a few more shots to cover his retreat and then dash upstairs. There was a multitude of panicked shouting follow by a distant impact shortly after, and Ashley guessed he must have pushed down one of the ladders. Someone cursed. A parasite ripped out of its host with a wet pop.

Then it was over.

The gun blasts ceased and the omnipresent crackle of torches faded away. In the silence that followed, a door closed downstairs. Footsteps approached her cabinet. There was the brief grating of wood against wood and then the cabinet doors were opened, bringing in not fresh air but the stench of blood and bile. Leon's haggard face greeted her eyes as she squinted against the sudden light.

"You okay?" he asked.

Unable to speak, she nodded, and rose shakily to her feet. Leon took her arm and helped her up and out. She averted her gaze from some of the corpses, trying hard to suppress her gag reflex. She tried to concentrate on other things, distracting herself. "Where's that other guy?"

"He ran off after they all left. I don't know what he thinks he's doing, but I'm not going to follow him. We have to keep moving."

Ashley felt shaky at the very thought of more fighting. "We can't stay here for a bit?" she pleaded, already knowing the answer but desperate for some sort of handle on the situation.

"No," Leon said firmly, "we really need to keep moving. I saw a couple ways out from the windows, let's go down there."

Ashley didn't move, leaning against a table and taking deep trembling breaths.

"Miss Graham," Leon started, and then paused. "Ashley. I know you're frightened. But our best chance to get out of here is to try and avoid them." He put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I think you can do this."

He was just saying that to make her feel better, she thought. She wasn't brave like him. Nothing in her life previously had prepared her for this kind of situation. Still, his hand seemed warm and strong on her shoulder, and she drew strength from it.

* * *

"…Bad feeling about this," Leon muttered almost to himself. Ashley couldn't help but agree. The structure seemed, if not haunted, then at the very least dangerously unstable. The moon reflected off the corrugated metal sheets of the roof and cast the scene in an eerie glow.

Leon nudged her, pulling her attention away from the unsettling sight. "You should hide. I'll check it out, see if we can stay here for awhile and maybe I can fix my transmitter."

She bit her lip, torn between two illusionary safeties: the one brought by secreting herself in some nearby brush, or the one gained from his close presence. She wasn't at all sure she wanted to be left alone outside, or that she wanted him to go in by himself.

Leon was looking at her. "Ashley?"

"Do you think that's a good idea?" she ventured.

"You'll be safer out here than in there if something happens. You've got room to run if you need to."

"But what about you?" she said worriedly.

Leon smiled wryly. "If it comes down to that, I'll probably be running right behind you." His face grew serious. "If I don't come out in fifteen minutes, though, you need to get as far away from here as you can."

She opened her mouth to protest, horrified at the thought. "Leon-"

He cut her off. "Ashley, you need to promise me you'll do that. Don't come in after me, don't stick around to see what happens next – just run."

She bit her lower lip, extremely reluctant to give any sort of confirmation. "Leon…"

"Promise me."

"But where-"

"Ashley," he said, looking her in the eye now. "Promise. You need to do that."

She sighed. "Alright. I promise."

"Okay. Go hide over behind that woodpile, you should be able to see from there."

She did so, crouching down in the uncomfortably cold leaves. She watched as Leon cautiously turned the handle to one of the doors and peered inside before slipping through.

The next thing she heard was the screech of tortured metal. She watched with disbelief as the door handles twisted themselves in the wrong directions. Jumping to her feet, she raced to the door and tugged futilely at handles, her promise quickly abandoned in her need to save Leon from whatever trouble was befalling him inside, but she was unable to move the latch.

The sudden explosion that ensued shook the structure to its very foundations and knocked her to the ground.

Stumbling back to her feet, and still dazed from the blast, Ashley stood unsteadily and took the scene in before her with absolute horror. The building was on fire! With a moan she sank back to the dirt, hand covering her mouth. If Leon was still alive, then he was trapped in a burning building.

She was alone, and without him to guide her, she was doomed. There was no point in running away.

Hope sparked back into her heart when the resounding clatter of gunfire began emanating from inside. Scrambling back to her place of safety, she waited anxiously as the sounds of fighting intensified and the flames grew higher. Smoke began obscuring the moon, and it soon became difficult to see. Sections of collapsed wall began lighting small patches of the surrounding forest with a firelight glow.

She only started to breathe again when a familiar figure flung himself through one such opening to roll singed, but mainly unharmed, on the cold forest floor.

Leon was soot blackened and grimier than ever, but seemed none the worse for wear as he beat out a small fire on his pant leg. Shielding his face from the flames, he ran over to Ashley's position.

"Are you okay Leon?" she asked in wide-eyed worry, gripping his darkened arms in her own pale hands, as if to assure herself he was in one piece.

"Fine," Leon mumbled through a cough, still suffering somewhat from mild smoke inhalation. "I got the key."

"Key?"

"I'll explain on the way. This bonfire is a little too obvious for my taste." Gripping her firmly by the hand, he moved them back off towards the gate.

* * *

"Wrong country."

The little man on the balcony's smile wavered a little, uncertainty tugging at the corners. Of all the responses he had envisioned to his mocking greeting, a non sequitur hadn't been one of them. "Wrong country, Mr. Kennedy?"

"Yeah." Leon pointed in a generally northward direction. "France is that way. With a good horse, you might be able to get back before they miss you."

The strange man was beginning to understand the edges of the joke, but still attempted to hold his smug superiority in place. "And why would they miss me in France?"

Leon frowned. "Napoleon? You're Napoleon, right? Short, ugly face, gay hat. You fit the bill. This is Spain. Although come to think of it, I can't imagine why anyone would miss you."

Salazar realized he was being played for a fool. "A brave attempt, Mr. Kennedy. But it will take more than that to get under my skin."

"It'd be easier if I had something sharp."

Salazar gritted his teeth. This was not going the way he had planned it in his head. "Empty threats, my American friend. You'll never get the chance. You see, we want the girl. You, on the other hand, are not worth a penny. You can die."

Leon smiled, and it was feral. "You first. I'd like to know if all midgets go to Heaven."

"Then I won't be seeing you in Hell," Salazar snarled.

"I'll take the elevator down. You'd better bring a step ladder if you're going up, though."

If there was one thing that set Salazar's brain on fire, it was tall people who looked down on him. "_¡Usted morirá aquí!_" With his bodyguards in tow, he stormed away, leaving the newly risen stonework to block Leon's path.

Ashley gave Leon 'the look'. "You just have to infuriate everyone, don't you."

Leon shrugged. "He started it."

"I hope you know what you're doing," she sighed.

"I'm all over it."


	15. Scenes from a Waking VI

So he had found the leader of the village, or at least this part of it, but his situation had not improved.

Instead he found himself tied to some former cop from Madrid who still hadn't given a solid answer as to what exactly he was doing in these parts, and in all likelihood he was about to be executed, or possibly worse. To round it all off, his neck hurt like hell and he had a splitting headache to go with it.

He shook himself – self-pity was not constructive. As long as he wasn't dead, he wasn't beaten. The nature of the situation spurred him into a flashback of his government training, the majority of which was supervised by a large and menacing man who had gone only by the moniker 'Boss'. If there was ever a time to remember his training, this was it.

Boss's voice came back very distinctly – the man had a penetrating one.

'_**There is a saying,' **__Boss had said one day, holding a rifle as he paced before them. __**'A soldier is only as good as his weapon.' **_

_He held up the gun, letting a moment pass for that to sink into his trainees before letting loose with a resounding, __**'BULLSHIT!' **__Everyone had jumped at that._

'_**The environment is your weapon! Your allies are your weapon! Your body is your weapon! Your brain is your weapon, and I'm assuming at least some of you have one. Make no mistake – the ability to outthink your enemy is one of your greatest assets. You must THINK faster than your enemy, REACT faster than your enemy, SHOOT, SPIT, and FUCK faster than your enemy! The capability to make quick decisions under pressure will serve you invaluably in combat. If you ladies survive this training, you might even find out for yourselves.'**_

"Well I'll be damned," Leon mumbled to himself. "Boss was really onto something."

"What?" Luis sounded puzzled.

"Hey, try pushing against me," Leon said, ignoring the query. "See if we can stand up."

Their efforts were interrupted by the oncoming sound of someone moving down the hall towards their room. It was an odd metallic noise, the steady cadence of something being dragged across the rough floor. Leon tensed in preparation, though he was still uncertain what he could do.

The fact that he had to do _something_ was pounded home when the noise in question proved to be a Ganado lugging a large axe. Panic was the enemy, he reminded himself. Don't panic.

He was panicking.

Wait, what was that? A burst of inspiration slid across the back of his brain, too quick for him to catch. Maybe if he concentrated really hard, it would come back to him… _That was it_!

"He'll swing for the middle!" Leon burst out.

"What?!"

"The middle," Leon reiterated, frantically scooting on his ass to put some distance between himself and Luis. "It's a heavy axe, he'll swing down. When he swings, move apart!"

"And what if he speaks English-"

With an primal roar, the Ganado swung the axe downward with all his might. Leon lunged forward, and nearly lost his balance as he was sliced free from his bonds.

The Ganado wasted no time in starting a second blow, but Leon was ready for him. Bracing himself on his back, he planted his feet on the chest of his enemy as he carelessly lurched forward in his attack and flipped the madman up and over himself. He was rewarded with a sickening snap as the neck of the Ganado broke on his awkward impact. He rolled to his feet in a ready position, but the assailant didn't move.

Taking a shaky breath, he stood. He turned, starting to speak. "We should-"

Luis was gone.

Leon couldn't believe it. This wasn't exactly the time or the place to be running off alone. He shrugged, shaking it off. If some weird Spaniard who had never really explained what he was doing here wanted to go off and get himself killed, that was his business. Leon had to find Ashley Graham, and fast.

He just hoped she wasn't already dead.

* * *

The beneficial properties of steel toed boots became abundantly clear yet again as Leon landed a solid kick to the jaw of the robed lunatic who had just attempted to kill him with the wild swing of a morning star. The crunch was quite audible as the man's jaw shattered, and a mixture of teeth and blood flew from between his split lips. Ashley had stopped making small sounds of horror hours ago, but Leon could still feel her wince behind him.

"_Joder!__Joder!_" The pseudo-monk spat viciously through a mouthful of blood. Leon could only assume the man was cursing. If he had just been kicked in the mouth like that, he knew he'd be swearing too, assuming he was still capable of speech.

The blinding pain he had inflicted on his adversary gave him the time he needed to reload his pistol, and then end it. A quick shot to the temple and the Ganado fell against the wall and slid to the floor, staining the elaborate wallpaper on his way down.

But Leon didn't pause to watch him fall, instead immediately turning his attention to his other two foes, one of whom was still recovering from a bullet to the thigh. The abnormally pale man opened his mouth, no doubt to shout something threatening, or call for help. It presented a perfect target. No more than a syllable passed his tongue before a bullet pushed the words back down.

Leon had the split second image of the man's teeth instantly stained a horrible red as the back of his throat was punctured – blood flew out from between them to run down the corners of his mouth as a much larger hole was punched through the back of his neck, the projectile's velocity almost undimmed as it continued onward to smash into the back wall of the room. This time, Ashley did squeak. Whatever the man had been going to say was lost in a choking gurgle and he collapsed, clutching his throat.

The third Ganado had an ace up his sleeve, as evidence by the odd bulges beginning to take form on his skull. Leon wasn't going to wait around for the parasite to join the party, and instead he took the initiative. He fired rapidly into the man's fragile head, large chunks of it dislodging as the true target inside squirmed in pain. The Plaga never had a chance to emerge. Filled with too many holes to sustain itself, it died inside the ruined remains of its host's head.

Just to be safe, Leon fired a last shot the gas lamp hanging from the ceiling. Burning liquid splashed down onto the corpses and found a ready fuel in their robes. The smell was overpowering, but Leon was well used to it at this point.

It occurred to him that maybe Ashley wasn't.

He turned around to look at her, something he hadn't done for awhile. She was always right behind him, and he realized in an odd way she was providing support for him as he was protecting her. Unarmed she might be, but it helped to have someone else around, and not just as an early warning system. A human presence at his shoulder blades was a great comfort with monsters around every corner.

No enemies had come running during his thoughts. Here was a moment of breathing room; he felt that he should use it.

She looked tired, though not exhausted. If things continued at this pace, that would come later. She was clean, at least compared to him. It was a strange thing to think, but it struck him how her porcelain skin was yet to be covered in filth. She looked out of place. There weren't any tearstains on her face. She had appeared all cried out by the time he had found her in the church. Her clothing still bore signs of their trek through the village and woods, some few mud stains and even a couple burrs stuck to the side of her skirt. Her hands were clasped in front of her, arms limp, though sometimes he could feel them placed on his back, or resting on his shoulders. He thought he might find her a gun to fill them with, but had the idea that she would probably refuse. And in truth, the thought of a person without any firearms experience carrying a loaded weapon behind his back wasn't all that appealing.

Uh oh, she was looking back at him. He'd better say something. "Holding up okay?"

She nodded, but wouldn't meet his eyes. A deep feeling of sympathy washed over him. It was at times like this he could almost remember how it felt that first time in Raccoon City. Leon holstered his pistol.

She had taken her sweater off again. The tightly built stone rooms of the castle were filled with various burning light sources, and it wasn't so much the heat but the ever-present smog that was suffocating. The comforting hands he placed on her bare shoulders left smudges of blood and ash that stood out against her fair skin, but she didn't seem to notice.

"Ashley?" Shock was a soldier's enemy, he knew. A person could fall apart in the terrors of battle, and they would be dangerous not just to themselves but to the others who depended on them. "Ashley." He said it firmly, and this time she looked up at him. "Fall apart on your own time."

That got her attention. Her eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

Even if she hated him for it, anger was a focusing force. "When we get back home you can scream, you can cry, you can flip out and smash everything in your room then go into therapy, but right now you keep it together. You look forward and you get the goddamn job done, because that's what we have to do, and terror is a weakness we can't afford."

She gaped at him.

"Terror is a weakness," he repeated. "We don't need a liability in here."

To his delight (and relief) she actually lifted her lips in a small smile. "Is that something they taught you in the army?"

"I was never in the army," he told her, "but if I had been, I bet they would have." He moved his hands down to grasp hers, serious again. "We can't succumb to shock. I need you with me for this."

"Okay," she said softly, squeezing his hands. "Okay. I'm with you."

As they pressed forward some of the unspoken aspects of what they had said would resonate with him, especially later when she was lost into the hands of madmen.

_I need you with me for this._

_I need you with me._

_I need you._

* * *

_There comes a time in every man's life,_ Leon thought hysterically, insanely, _when he gets crushed by a giant lawn ornament._

The statue's massive feet weren't all that far behind him and it really wasn't the time to be thinking in abstract jokes, but he couldn't help himself. The situation was terribly, terrible deadly and terribly, terribly absurd.

Of course, maybe it was all just because everyone else in this godforsaken ass end of Spain was bat shit crazy.

He repressed the urge to do his best Tex Avery impression. Instead he continued running for his life.

Predictably, the bridge behind the locked door he blasted open had not been designed with one hundred ton terracotta statues in mind. The inability of the original builders to foresee that particular need resulted in the statues' literal downfall. Leon coiled himself like a spring and caught the edge of the rapidly collapsing structure. He was too busy pulling himself up to safety to look down, but he heard the impact of the giant thing like a bomb going off in the chasm below.

He paused to catch his breath before pushing on through the large double doors and into the tower to find that, once again, Salazar had stuck around to greet him. He was clapping – for what, Leon wasn't sure.

"So nice you could join us, Mr. Scott Kennedy."

"I have a first name, you know. It's not even hard to remember."

Salazar ignored him. "The sacred rite that is about to begin at this tower will bestow the

girl with magnificent power. She will join us, become one of us."

"It's like fucking Mad-Libs around here. Try formulating your next sentence without using the words 'join' or 'us'."

Once again Salazar became infuriated, a state that seemed natural for him. "You think you are clever? You will never see Ashley again, because you will _die_ before you leave this place."

The gesture Salazar made on the word 'die' provided an opportunity too good to pass up. Whipping his knife from his sheath, Leon threw it with deadly accuracy. He knew he couldn't kill a Plaga infected person with a simple knife wound, but he _could_ cause some serious pain.

Salazar stared in disbelief and growing agony as his left palm sprouted a knife handle. Leon shrugged at him. "I'd say it was a hell of a throw, but I was aiming for your crotch."

The little man may have been struck mute by pain, but his bodyguard wasn't frozen into inaction. Swiftly pulling the knife from Salazar's hand, the hooded thing hurled it back at Leon almost faster than the eye could follow.

Leon had been waiting for that. Fast as the creature was, he dodged the retaliation with little difficulty, stepping aside and letting it imbed itself behind him.

Salazar had no vicious parting words, instead whimpering as he ran to the safety of the waiting elevator. Leon sighed, watching them ascend as he wrenched his blade free from the wall. It was tryingly predictable, but once again he'd been left to play catch up.

"I guess I'll take the stairs," he said to no one in particular.


	16. Scenes from a Waking VII

It was so dark.

Ashley fumbled with the old flashlight she had pulled out of a desk drawer, its aluminum casing corroded with age. Mentally crossing her fingers, she thumbed the switch. To her relief it worked; the light emitted was a musty yellow and not very strong, but it would be enough to illuminate her surroundings.

The image of a woman stared down from over a blackened fireplace. The painting was covered in a thick layer of dust and its subject glared menacingly from the frame. Ashley nervously avoided her gaze, already freaked out by her surroundings. The rest of the room was crowded with ancient furniture, and it was obvious the area of the castle hadn't been used in a long time.

What was this? Curiously, Ashley reached out her fingers and brushed the strange ceramic plate surmounting the stonework. At her touch it fell from its setting and clattered noisily on the floor. She held her breath, hoping no one had heard.

After several moments passed without incident, she bent down and took the square. The edges of it were lined in specific patterns, like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle. The shapes there reminded her of some sort of strange key. Going with a gut instinct, she pocketed it. After all, you could never know when a strange ceramic square might come in useful, she thought to herself giddily, and suppressed a bout of nervous laughter. Now was not the time to lose it – she had to stay focused and concentrate on getting out and back to Leon.

Suits of armor lined the cobwebbed hall in a rusty cavalcade. She moved passed them as quietly as possible, wrestling with a growing sense of unease. It was completely silent. She could hear nothing but the sound of her own harsh breathing. The thick layer of dust on the floor muffled her footsteps and the scene took on a dreamlike quality.

Around a few corners the hallway ended in a larger space, a room hosting a pedestal surrounded by more of the ubiquitous plate armor mannequins, weapons raised in ghostly salute. Not wanting to approach such a strange display, Ashley hesitated at the entrance.

It was becoming increasingly difficult not to give into her fear. Taking a firm grip on her courage, she took the first step over the foyer and slowly made her way to the platform.

What she saw there made her mentally groan. Another puzzle. What was it with the castle and puzzles? It just didn't make any sense. She frowned at it, already frustrated with its nature. Leon was better at that sort of thing than she was. Peering more closely at the oddly arranged squares, she tried to decipher their purpose.

At least one aspect of it was immediately apparent – the individual squares matched the one she had pulled from the fireplace. So all she had to do was figure out what the puzzle was and she already had the missing piece. Reaching down, she found to her dismay that she wasn't able to pry any of the objects from the pedestal top. But she saw that she could move them in two dimensions within their setting, the obvious goal to rearrange them to form a picture.

But a picture of what? She didn't want to start pushing them around without knowing what the final result was supposed to be.

Fortunately, it wasn't too oblique a mystery. All the tiles were edged with blank space that provided the clues to the proper order. She felt proud of herself as she placed the last missing piece in the form of the fireplace square into the careful arrangement.

Then she nearly died of fright when a doorway across from her ground open with a noisy shudder.

Biting her lower lip, she hesitated. It could be some sort of trap. Of course, everything she had done so far could have been some sort of trap. She was on the clock – it was only a matter of time before they found her again. She had to get out. She had to get back to Leon. Taking a deep breath, she drew up her courage once again.

The only way out was through.

* * *

**Ashley whimpered in her sleep. **

_Ashley?_

**What was more terrifying than being chased by living armor?**

_Ashley? Can you hear me?_

**Bury it. Bury it so deep that it never happened.**

_Ashley, wake up. You're having a nightmare._

**Not yet.**

* * *

"_NO!_"

Leon fell through the trap door and her heart plummeted with him.

For a few awful moments it was all she could do to keep herself from collapsing. Salazar cackled on his meaningless throne, kicking his little bowed legs in gruesome mirth. Ashley closed her eyes.

"Hmm?" Salazar was no longer laughing, and leaned towards some sort of tube. "Where is the satisfying sound of one's impalement?"

A different sort of sound blasted through the room as a gunshot rang out from the pit. Salazar screeched like a banshee and clapped one hand over the ear that had been pressed to the device. He emerged from the fit of extreme pain in a stuttering rage. "Enough games! _Kill him! MATAR!_"

One of the creatures that had stood watch over her moved silently away to carry out his master's orders. Ashley opened her mouth to scream a warning to the man trapped below but was interrupted by a sharp shove to her back, courtesy of Salazar's other minion. As she was herded away, she was able to take one last hopeful look at the pit.

Leon would survive. He had to.

* * *

Ashley swallowed a strangled shout and stood against the wall in unthinking horror.

The gurgling, staggering _thing _let out a scream like fingernails on a chalkboard as Leon fired at close range with his rifle. The sharp crack of the report left her ears feeling like they had been packed with cotton. Not waiting for it to draw any nearer to them, Leon grabbed her hand and pulled her with him through the gate.

It was some sort of disposal area, discarded wrappers and worse things moldering amongst rusted bulkheads and sewage water. An unpleasant stench wafted throughout the place, but Ashley was all but deadened to it. Her own clothing was soaked in far worse things than food remains. Taking her customary position huddling behind Leon, she tried to view the oncoming creature objectively.

It was a nightmare of gray sludge and spiky protrusions, molded into a shaky humanoid form that seemed somehow intrinsically wrong in its shapes and contours. The monster was like a half finished sculpture or something collapsed on a potter's wheel, a failed piece of artwork. Its skin bulged in random places as if it contained rodents running underneath the jellied epidermis. Noting those bulges moving contrary to the motions of the limbs, she couldn't help but wonder if that wasn't the awful truth.

She had something underneath her skin, too…

Leon fired again. This time the creature rocked backwards, the needle lined mouth gaping in terrible agony. A red substance too thick to be normal blood spurted out of the wound like a stinking jam. The second shot ripped the jaw from the wobbling head and sent it spinning into the floor. Leon cursed as if he had missed. The third shot to the torso made the thing reel backwards into a stack of barrels, and then the fourth bent it double at the stomach and sent it crashing down.

Working the bolt, Leon ejected a casing that had stovepiped. Ashley saw him grimace quickly at the chamber, coated with a thick layer of filth. She had heard him grumble several times about the state of his weaponry, but he had no time to clean them properly. Raising the rifle back to his shoulder, he took careful aim at his heavily bleeding foe, which was only now just beginning to rise. The final shot tore through the beast where the heart would have been.

It was as if he had hit some sort of killswitch. The monster's body pulsated wildly and, letting out one final wail, it literally exploded from the inside out.

Leon's body shielded her from most of the gore. Raising her head again, she viewed the mess left behind. The blood and skin had mixed together in a revolting spatter with the consistency of paste. Closing her eyes briefly in disgust, she turned to follow Leon.

Something caught her eye and caused her to stop. Amongst the filthy puddle of remains, there was motion.

A fat and wriggling mass squirmed from the pool like an eel on dry land. It was too coated in gelatinous blood to discern all of its features, but there was no doubt where it came from. It had been inside the creature. Something hot rose in the back of her throat.

Was one of those inside of her?

Without warning she vomited painfully, emptying what little contents her stomach held on the metal floor. She came up, gasping for air and retched again. Leon was quickly back by her side. A warm hand covered her shoulder.

"Ashley?"

Unable to answer she could only look back at the limply flexing parasite. Leon followed her gaze and suddenly understood.

Drawing his pistol, he sent the leech to join its host.


	17. Such Hope to Grasp

_**Funny how the mind dwelled in sleep on the things one might wish most to forget**__yourollthroughthetunnelintoabrightwhitehorizonrememberthefieldsremember  
theskyoutsidethewindowsillondayswherewebreathedwithoutcareIsignedoverthe  
betterpartsofmeforanhourofshallowescapewherearemyregretsfossilizedandcatalogued  
deadbeforetheycouldfollowmeandIhitthegroundrunninggoingnowhereslownoticeme  
walkingbackwardsasIstraintotakeastepIamatrestasalwaysstasisismynaturalcomfort  
Ikilledchangeandmyforwardmomentumwithasilverbulletfromahandmade  
gun__**somuch**__**blood in her memories. She twisted from the rusty red images.**_

"Ashley, it's okay."

_**It would never be okay again.**_

"You're having a nightmare, wake up."

And she did.

The sheets stuck to her sticky skin, still damp with the all pervading sweat that followed the worst kind of dreams. Flailing in a moment of unreality, unable to shake the nightmare immediately, she rolled to a sitting position and frantically took in her surroundings.

The panic began to fade as she recognized the room: Leon's bedside table, the television in its place of honor in the middle of his dresser, the enormous pile of laundry by the door that had been such a source of amusement for her on their arrival. Breathing out a sigh of relief, she slumped backwards to fall again on the damp bed. Embarrassment prompted her to pull the covers over her head. It was her first night in his apartment, and she ruined it with bad dreams.

"Oh God," she moaned into the bedspread, mortified.

"You know, you said that earlier too." She could tell he was smiling. "But I don't think you meant it like that. Or least I hope you didn't."

"I'm sorry," she sighed, her voice still muffled into the blankets. "At least I never did this in quarantine, right."

"What, get all sweaty? If memory serves me-"

"Leon!" Ashley tossed the covers off of her and sat up to glare at him. "I'm really embarrassed here and you're not helping at all."

Leon pointed a finger at her, grin still in place. "And yet here you are, sitting up and full of anger, which makes you damnably arousing, by the way. I think it's a vast improvement from hiding underneath the covers."

"I suppose," she grumbled, slumping back down to the bed. She was unable to maintain her mood of shame under his constant teasing. "Next time how about you just give me a hug instead."

"I'm all hugged out," he replied, but turned serious. "What did you dream about?"

"Spain." Ashley closed her eyes and tried to wipe the images from beneath her eyelids. "It's not the first time."

"If it makes you feel any better, I had nightmares after my first few missions. It's not the sort of thing you go through without being affected. Especially what happened in Spain," Leon sympathized.

Impulsively she gripped his hand beneath the sheet. "It does, actually." What was this ability he had to always make her feel better, she wondered. He cut through the nightmares and dispelled the fog of war in her head.

"Good. Let's have sex."

That earned him a pillow towards the face. He easily blocked the blow with his battle experienced hands and tugged the pillow from her grasp. "Well that's the last time I make a frank proposal to you, Miss Ashley."

"I believe the word you're looking for is _soliciting_," she said, making a grab for the pillow. "Which is illegal!"

Leon laughed, moving the pillow off the side of the bed and out of her reach. "I thought you wanted to be a doctor, are you thinking about passing the bar now?"

She gave up, flopping back onto her side of the bed. "Nope. I'm going to become an Agent. Then I'll get promoted until I become your boss and make you fetch coffee for me all day. I'll call you Coffee Boy. And you can paint my toenails while I work on important business."

"Ahhh, a Coffee Boy. That's the life for me."

Choosing not to respond to that, Ashley rolled over and wrapped one arm around him, pulling back down to the mattress and resting her head against his chest. Leon happily complied and a period of silence followed.

Ashley broke it. "So do they ever stop? The nightmares, I mean."

"Hmm? Oh, yeah," Leon yawned. He tried to see the clock but it was obscured by his pillow. "It takes awhile. I guess it will be different for you. For me the nightmares went away through overexposure. You become numb to that sort of thing if you do it enough." He frowned. "But that's not so much healing as it is desensitization. You should get over it naturally, with time."

"So you think my adventuring days are over?" She smiled into his sleeping shirt.

"If you consider being kidnapped an adventure, you'd better hope they are. I personally prefer to choose my adventures."

Ashley sighed, and dared then to voice the greatest question. "So where do we go from here?"

Leon shifted uncomfortably. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what now? Are we just going to sneak around sleeping together forever or what?"

He hadn't really thought about it that way. "Well, I didn't think we'd sneak around forever… Your parents are gonna find out sometime."

"Okay. So do we plan the breakup? Move in together? Get married ASAP? Blunder our way through this? What do you want from me, Leon?"

This was all happening awfully fast. He found himself grasping for answers. "Jesus, Ashley. I don't have a day planner for this stuff."

"I know," she said softly. "I guess I just don't really understand the direction we're moving in. It hasn't exactly been the most standard relationship so far."

Truth. "Maybe we should call it nontraditional. Or nonconformist, that sounds trendy."

Ashley met his eyes. "I don't want to be trendy, I want to know what you think."

There was a time, Leon reflected, for absolute honesty, and this was one of them. He sat up against the headboard. Ashley mimicked his action, rising to sit opposite of him, cross-legged in the moonlight. Reaching down, he took her slender hands in his. "Okay. I imagine us dating for a few more months. Somewhere down the road I can hit up my boss for a promotion thanks to my excellent handling of the Spain situation, buy you a nice ring, and get around to proposing. Then we can be happily engaged for awhile before we get married wherever you want, since I certainly should have nothing to do with planning something like a wedding. Then we can buy a house, pop out a few kids, and I'll move to a high paying desk job." He nodded in satisfaction, thinking it over. "Yeah, that sounds about right. Maybe we should move out of D.C. sometime too, it's not what I'd consider an ideal place to own a house. Obviously, this grand plan is subject to future alterations," He concluded. "How does that sound?"

Ashley's eyes looked as wide as the moon they reflected. Her mouth opened and closed several times in abortive attempts to speak.

Leon shrugged. "Hell, I know it's not perfect, but I thought it was a pretty solid foundation for the future. The details need to be filled in, there's a lot of grey area there. But it's workable."

"Yes!" Ashley gasped.

He frowned. "Yes it's workable, or yes it needs some more filling in?"

"Yes I'll marry you!" Ashley's arms flew around him and her mouth clamped firmly to his. His muffled responses were firmly suppressed by her tongue.

When she broke for air he spluttered back to life. "What the – were you even listening? I don't _have_ the ring yet-" He broke off when he saw in alarm there were tears on her cheeks. "Ashley, why are you crying?"

"Because I'm so happy," she choked out, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He had a brief flash of déjà vu back to their reunion in quarantine.

"But Ashley, I didn't actually propose to you yet-"

"But you were going to," she sighed happily.

"Well, yes. But the ring-"

"Oh, you can get that later. What's important is that we're getting married!"

Leon was feeling more than a little off balance. "You know, the benefit of my plan was the time to get used to the idea."

"I am used to it."

"That's all well and good for you-"

"Leon," she said, starting to sound miffed, "did you want to get married or not?"

"Well, sure. Eventually."

"Now, later, same difference," she stated with a final sort of tone. "Either way we get married. What's the point of waiting?"

Try as he might, he really couldn't think of any valid excuses. It had, after all, been his idea in the first place. "I suppose… My point was that… Uh…"

"Yes?"

He sighed in defeat. "Nothing. We were going to get married anyway. But we have to be engaged for at least three months. That's a rule."

She made a sound of disbelief. "Who's rule?"

"People's. Don't question it, it's Agency stuff. It could mean your life to dig deeper."

"Oh, that's your excuse for everything."

"But it's just so convenient."

"Leon." She sounded serious again.

"Yeah?"

"This is what you want… Right?"

So she wasn't as impenetrably determined as it had first seemed. "Not exactly."

The look in her eyes was heartbreaking, and he hastened to finish his thought. "Meaning I still think we should take it a little slower. I think it would be good if we learned to live together first, before we get married. Under normal circumstances," he added. "Quarantine wasn't exactly what you can expect out of everyday house life."

"That makes sense," she agreed. "But not _too_ long."

"Certainly not."


	18. Epilogue

Leon pulled at the collar of his suit and for the millionth time wished his hands weren't sweating so much.

In a few moments he and his bride to be would take the spotlight in front of the chapel, and he was deathly afraid. Not of being married, but of screwing it up. It would be just his luck to begin sabotaging his marriage at the wedding itself.

No, that was negative thinking. Positive thoughts – that was the key. Out with the bad, in with the good and all that other new age bullshit that ended up on public access television and in small bookstores.

"How are you holding up?" It was Jonathan, looking predictably smug at the thought of his Agent marrying off.

"I've been better."

"Not after tonight you won't have been," his boss chuckled, looking over Leon in his tuxedo. His eyes softened and took on a distant look. "Did I ever tell you about my wife, Leon?"

Leon had seen pictures in Jonathan's office of a woman with dark hair and a bright smile, but knew nothing other than her appearance. "No, you haven't."

"We were married for the best fourteen years of my life. The cancer took her from me," John said with an old pain in his eyes. "I've always regretted the time I spent at the office instead of with her. You never know how long you have to be happy." The older man shook himself from the memories. "Anyway, maybe now isn't the proper time, but I wanted you to know I just got back from a meeting with the Board. You've been promoted."

Leon smiled, genuinely pleased and grateful to hear it. "Thank you sir."

"I've moved you up to be under my direct supervision, you won't be pulling jobs from the Agent pool anymore. There are a lot of missions that could benefit in the planning stages from your extensive experience."

"Am I grounded?" It was a term that Agents used much the same way it was in the Air Force – no more active field assignments. Leon wasn't sure how to feel about that. On one hand it would make it much easier to spend time with Ashley, and the risks associated with black ops work were all but eliminated. On the other hand, he would miss working in the field, and could see a desk job quickly becoming stale.

"Not exactly. As my operations expert you'll be going where I go, which means a lot of overseas travel and otherwise. And of course, who's to say every now and then whether an assignment might require your personal intervention."

Now things were definitely looking up. His new role in the Agency would allow him a great deal of flexibility. "Thank you very much, sir, I won't let you down."

Jonathon snorted. "Of course you won't, if you did I wouldn't have put you in this position. Fuckups aren't allowed in this business." He turned back to the door. "We'll discuss this more when you return to work. Enjoy your honeymoon."

Leon grinned. "You can count on that."

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Back for round two, eh? Welcome to Tenebrae 2.0, or Two-Point-Fucking-Oh, as I like to call it. Well, okay, I just made that up. But I promise to call it that from now on to make it up to you.

This version of Tenebrae (Two-Point-Fucking-Oh) has been edited and cleaned until it shines, so now you can clearly see all of the plot holes without the grime of bad grammar to distract you. Theoretically this might enhance your reading experience, but I really don't see how. I suppose in that way, this story is like a car. You can wash it off and wax it, but that doesn't get rid of the dead body in the trunk. The dead HOOKER body! Yes, that's right, I've abandoned all vestiges of class and reason to include a 'dead hooker in the trunk joke' in my author's note. That when you know a writer's got _style_.

There's really not much to say regarding this story, or dead hookers, for that matter. I've undertaken this entirely superfluous effort to polish my past work based on the following two observations, which I will present in fancy bullet point fashion:

1. Tenebrae is my most popular story. I've netted over a hundred reviews with a paltry word count, making it by far the work that has my best chapter to review ratio. And, like a major motion picture studio, I just can't stay away from a guaranteed profit, although, unlike a major motion picture studio, I have yet to churn out a subpar sequel.

2. The second observation ties right into the first, which makes these bullet points most excellently relevant. This story has passed the 40,000 hit mark. I wanted to do something t to celebrate, but I'm too cheap to throw a party (who would come?) and not cheap enough to get drunk by myself (that's a lie). So instead I'm giving to my readers an updated version (Two-Point-Fucking-Oh) of Tenebrae, when what they really want is a sequel or at least additional chapters. This clearly demonstrates that I am in tune with the demands of my audience.

3. When I said there were two observations, I lied, because as you can see there are three bullet points. This story has currently been added to over 80 favorites. Going by the number of people that have me on their favorites list, a lot more people like my story than like me, which is unsurprising.

So that's that. And what is it – you might ask if you cared, which is doubtful – that I like best about this story? Well, let's see… The sex and the violence are always a big plus, but I'm going to have to say that I like having finally written a defining niche story.

You know what I'm talking about. There's always that one story, that story that everyone point you to when you're looking for a fanfic that has a particular pairing. Somehow, I became that story for Leon\Ashley fanfiction. When I posted this fic I stepped into a vacuum – there were practically no other stories with the same pairing around. Because of that, I became the de facto king of the mountain.

The best part of that is inspiring other people. In the wake of Tenebrae (the original version, not Two-Point-Fucking-Oh) I've seen other Leon\Ashley fics spring up. Sure, that's probably just a coincidence and they have nothing to do with me, but it gives me an excuse to masturbate in self-satisfaction (do I really need an excuse?).

Now if you are a desperate individual who has nothing better to do with their time than read all of this self-serving bullshit, you may be interested in how Tenebrae was written. Well, I don't have any insights to offer as to how Two-Point-Fucking-Oh was made, since all I did was edit my old crap, but here's what my previous author's note had to say about the original version.

* * *

_Thank you for reading Tenebrae! You've just finished a Resident Evil 4 fanfiction, losing precious hours of your life that you can never get back! This is hardly relevant because you'd just waste them anyway on other such meaningful pursuits as looking through Sharper Image catalogues, watching reality TV, drinking Frappacinos and ordering pay-per-view pornography and\or wrestling. _

_The idea for this story came to me as I was playing Resident Evil 4 on my widescreen television which is better than yours. That idea being to flatly plagiarize the game in written form. I began to implement this idea with what was originally the first chapter, a boring rehash of things you already knew. That starting chapter is now chapter two since I added a new prologue. (Those of you reading this at will be confused as I never bothered to add the new Prologue) This 'boring rehash' concept continued with the 'Scenes from a Waking' chapters, the monotony of which was briefly broken by the stirringly original 'The Reasons of Things'. I then constructed a loose and flimsy structure of occurrences to support my large array of goals for the story, those goals in fact only being one goal. This goal can be condensed into the easily chewable summary of, 'Leon and Ashley have sex.'. _

_Stuffing my face with frozen pizza and stealing heavily from multiple better fanfics, I completed that goal with the minimum of effort expended on my part. Once 'Implosion' was completed (The entire concept of which was utterly pirated from the X-Files fanfiction 'Solitary Confinement', which can be found in the 'Whispers of X' archive) the story was essentially finished. Desperate for the continued attention of people on the internet I'll never meet and who may or may not be real, I dragged it out until it was stretched so thin you could see through it._

_And that, really, is all there is to say. The new prologue was inspired by the 'Zombie Survival Handbook' and all the similar italicized blurbs it contains. A fair amount of research was done. All Spanish locations listed in this story are real with obvious exception of the Salazar Estates. 'Illuminados' really would appear to be the Spanish equivalent of 'Illuminati', the not-so-secret world controlling organization so popular in fiction and otherwise. All usage of the Spanish language was either taken directly from the game or badly translated._

* * *

Wow, the past version of me sure was a fucktard. 

Anyway, thanks for reading my 'story'. I've successfully distracted you from going to the library, picking up a real book, and actually learning something. And who knows, perhaps someday one of those books you pick up will be mine! Then we'll finally know that the end times will be upon us, and Satan will totally pitchfork you in the ass.

Caleb out.


End file.
